If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware thai
this book is slolen properly It was reported as "unsold and destroyed"
to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received
any payment for this "stripped book "

This book is an Ace original edition,
and has never been previously published

GEOMANCER

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with
the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Ace edition / January 1994

All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1994 by Don Callander
Cover art by Daniel R. Horne.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in pan,
by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address The Berkley Publishing Group,
200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

ISBN: 0-441-28036-6

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are trademarks belonging to Charter Communications, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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This book is dedicated, with love and endless delight and
not a little pride, to my very good friend and youngest
son, Alan Brian Callander. Alan is my very own computer
expert. He's given me a world of good, solid help and
advice on which buttons to push and how to find things
when I've lost them. I can truthfully say none of my books
would have turned out nearly so well without his help,
patience and encouragement' (I'll be very surprised if a copy
of Geomancer doesn't appear, after publication, in Bender
Library at American University in Washington, D.C.)










Introduction




The Story Up to Now

DOUGLAS Brightglade, the son of a shipwright of Duke-
dom lost at Sea, came to Wizard's High, a magical cottage
under a tall hill, in Valley of Dukedom in the days when
Frigeon the Ice King strove to enthrall World. Once there,
he applied for the position of Apprentice to the Master
Pyromancer, a Fire Wizard, Flarman Flowerstalk.

For a number of years Douglas's education proceeded
as he learned the rudiments of wizardry in general and
pyromancy in particular. In due time he joined Flarman and
the Pyromancer's oldest friend, Augurian the Aquamancer,
in an attempt to stop Frigeon's wicked conquests.

Cast away on a Warm Seas island while carrying a mys-
terious Grey Pearl to Augurian, Douglas met and fell in love
with Mym Manstar, a pearl fisher's daughter. When Mym
was carried off by the usurping Duke Eunicet of Dukedom,
Douglas went to her rescue, with the help of a Great Sea
Tortoise named Oval. They managed to capture the Duke
and his crew and set Mym free.

Under cover of the Battle of Sea against Frigeon's hordes
of monsters, ghouls, banshees, and evil goblins, Flarman
and Douglas entered Frigeon's Ice Palace and destroyed
the Grey Pearl, in which the Ice King had locked his
conscience. Frigeon defeated, work to restore peace and
well-being began at a Grand Homecoming Party at Wiz-
ards' High.

X!

XI 1

Don Callander

In the second book of Douglas's and Mym*s adventures,
Douglas set off alone on a Journey, necessary to earn
promotion to Mastery, to investigate a Coven of Witches
in Old Kingdom.

Assisted by a newfound friend, Marbteheart Sea Otter,
Douglas tracked down the wicked Witch Queen Emaldar on
her mountain. Nearly killed by an eruption of the volcano,
Douglas was rescued at the last moment by Mym, now
an Apprentice Aquamancer, who had followed him to Old
Kingdom.

Emaldar was destroyed by her own selfishness and dis-
trust in the awful eruption. Douglas and Mym managed to
save her victims and slaves and set them to restoring their
land, which the witch had enchanted.

Planning to marry in December, the young couple
returned with the Otter, now Douglas's Familiar, to Wiz-
ards' High to prepare for the Journeyman's Examination for
Advancement to full Wizardry.

As a break from studying, Douglas went to visit Serenit,
the former Frigeon, now First Citizen of New Land. Here
the story continues....

Chapter One




Preparations

BRONZE Owl, perched on the courtyard well curbing,
nodded with satisfaction and a shrill screech of metal on
metal.

He waved aside ornate Ostrich-Plume Pen, which had
been busily writing to his dictation all morning, and beck-
oned to a pot of fine sand on the wide, flat well curbing.

The wedding guest list was completed.

The bowlegged clay Pot hopped cheerfully forward on its
three stubby feet and broadcast fine yellow grains over the
last page, being very careful not to smudge the flourishes
and serifs of Plume Pen's swirled and curlicued callig-
raphy.

Bronze Owl hummed to himself for as long as it took
a bluebird to loop lazily from the byre door to the mead-
ow gate and back, carrying a kernel of fall wheat to her
summer brood of chicks in her nesting box above the
Wizards' workshop door. He then picked up the last page
and poured the sand back into the Pot. He fanned the page
three more times to be certain it was dry and, gathering up
the thick sheaf of parchment, flew with a clatter of brazen
wing-feathers to the open window of the Wizard's study on
the second-floor front of the cottage.

FIarman Flowerstalk, sometimes known as Firemaster,
was nodding over his own high stack of papers, his hand
so relaxed in sleep that even businesslike Crow-Quill Pen
had fluttered to the floor.

2                 Don Callander

"Wake up! Awaken, useless old firebreather!" cried Owl
fondly. *This is no way to perform your important magical
duties'"

The Wizard of Wizards' High—one of the two such
Wizards, he being the elder—jerked awake, blinked his
eyes twice, and twisted about to face the bird in a whirl of
stars, moons, comets, and other mystic symbols appliqued
on his second best wizard's gown,

"Ha! Huh?" he muttered, rubbing his chin, forehead, and
ears vigorously. "Resting the old eyes, old friend."

He rose and stretched his arms above his silver-fringed
bald head and waggled his snowy beard, working out kinks
and creaks.

In his mind he heard echoes of Bronze Owl's words.

"Useless? Old! Who says I'm useless? Why, I'm not
more than three centuries! Or is it four? Young by wizardly
standards, even you must admit."

"Young is as young does," said Owl, shaking a claw
significantly. "I've finished the guest list. You may want
to cut it back. It runs forty pages, closely written!"

"Forty -. - !" cried Flarman, fully awake at last. "There
must be close on a thousand names!"

"I thought it best to include everyone and let you and
Douglas and Mym cut it down to size," Owl explained.

The Wizard took the hefty list and began to read, pausing
to draw a line through a name here and there, muttering his
reasons as he went along. Bronze Owl listened carefully but
said little.

"Hmm! Hmm?" said Flarman, scratching his nose with
Crow-Quill Pen. "Asrai should be invited, of course, but
can it come?"

"The Phosphorescence cannot exist in fresh water or in
light of day, I agree," replied the Owl, finding a perch on
the tall back of the Wizard's wing chair. "But it should
receive an invitation out of courtesy, don't you think? It
saved Douglas's life at least twice that I know of."

"Of course! Oh, yes' I presume a great many of these
people will fail to show, for a variety of reasons."

Geomancer                    3

"It's always that way at weddings," the doorknocker
predicted confidently. "But you must ask them, anyway."

"And hope they don't all show up, I suppose. What
would we do with a thousand guests? I shudder to think .. ."

"Marget of Faerie and her Consort and their newbom
son alone will bring a couple dozen courtiers, I imagine,"
Bronze Owl mused. 'The Becketts of Fairstrand number
close to fifty."

"Bigbelly! You've put him down?" cried Flarman. "He's
but a rough, uncultured sailor! He wouldn't know what
to do at a grand wedding—except eat and drink himself
silly!"

"That could apply to a lot of them," Owl laughed aloud.
"Say, do we agree or not? Ask 'em all and hope some of
them are too busy to attend?"

Flarman Flowerstalk grumbled agreement and returned
to the list.

"Here's a problem now. Cerfew the Great White Gull?
His family is very large and very close-knit."

Bronze Owl shrugged his wings with a clash of metal
feathers. "A person receiving an invitation to a wedding
must know it is he alone who is invited, not his entire
flock!"

"We'll hope so," sighed the Wizard. "Actually, housing
and feeding the Faeries will be no problem. They can come
and go as they please, as does Deka the Wraith—between
dimensions, so to speak. Bryarmote and his bride and his
mother Finesgold, however, must be housed here at the
High, of course. Bryarmote built the High, you'll recall."

"I was here," reminded Owl, nodding several times.

A great deal had happened since then, but few times,
good or bad, equaled the excitement and satisfaction the
Fire Wizard and his household had experienced white build-
ing the cottage under the hill called Wizard's High ... as it
was called in those days.

But then one morning a lad of fourteen, small for his age,
tousle-haired and a bit ragged looking, had come to the front
door, seeking the post of Apprentice to the Fire Wizard.

4                 Don Callander

Flarman, preoccupied by the rise to power of the wicked
Frigeon the Ice King, had almost turned him away.

Douglas Brightglade got the job, however, and the histo-
ry of World would have been quite different if he hadn't,
Bronze Owl knew. Together the Wizard and his Apprentice
had marshaled the Forces of Light against the Ice King.
They discovered the secret of Frigeon's invincibility and
conquered him before he could plunge World into an arctic
nightmare that would have lasted eons.

"All these sailors and warriors who helped us in the
Battle of Sea," Flarman was saying. "Yes, I suppose we'll
have to invite them, although I admit I don't know many
of these names."

"They're all listed in the ships' logs and records," Owl
assured him.

After the great sea fight and the destruction of Frigeon*s
Grey Pearl, things might have settled down for the Wizard
and his Journeyman, but word came from afar that a Black
Witch named Emaldar had formed a Coven of Witches with
plans for conquering and enchanting the poor, scattered
peoples of Old Kingdom, in the west, beyond the Broad.

Douglas had gone off to check the witches' ambitions
and, helped by his pretty and gritty fiancee, Myrn Manstar
ofFlowring Isle, an Aquamancer's Apprentice herself, had
seen the Coven and Emaldar utterly destroyed in a terrible
volcanic eruption.

"Who in World are Delond and Antia?" inquired Flar-
man, keeping his place on the list with a stubby forefin-
ger.

"You met them briefly on your return from Pfantas," said
the metal bird. "Delond is the Mayor of Summer Palace and
Antia is his wife, I believe."

"Ah, yes, now I remember," murmured Flarman. "Nice
people!"

"There are a number of people from Pfantas on the list,
too, but I doubt many will actually come." Owl went on.
"They're very busy setting things aright since (he dissolu-
tion of the Coven,"

Geomancer                    5

In a very few days, at the Autumnal Equinox, Douglas
would be examined by a panel of Master Wizards consisting
of Flarman, Augurian the Water Adept, and the elderly
Choinese Magician, Wong Tscha San. If Douglas passed
the orals, and his journeying was deemed sufficient (No
doubt about that, thought the Owl), the young man would
be elevated to full Mastery, a Fire Wizard like Flarman, his
teacher and close friend.

Three months later the whole World, it seemed, would
descend on Dukedom's Valley and on Wizards' High (as
it was now called) for the wedding of Douglas and Myrn.
The invitations were ready to be sent out.

"What do ye hear from Douglas?" asked Flarman, look-
ing up from the long list. "Did I miss his latest message?"

"No," responded Bronze Owl, preparing to depart for the
nail on the double front door of the cottage, his post as
Doorknocker and official greeter. "He sent word yesterday
that he'd go with Serenit to the face of the glacier today.
Serenit had something strange to show him that has been
uncovered by the melting ice."

"I recall," said the Wizard. A worried frown creased his
brow for a moment. "Well, let me know when he checks in,
won't you? He should be back here at his books. I should
have gone to check on Serenit myself."

"You are quite overwhelmed with disenchanting all those
people Serenit put under spell when he was Frigeon."

"Yes, and I must get back to it quickly. Here, send all
these invitations as quickly as possible. The Wraith can do
it faster than anyone, I suppose, and with less fuss. We
can only hope that our honored guests won't eat all Valley
out of houses, homes, barns, bins, cribs, and silos, and the
High, too!"

Journeyman Pyromancer Douglas Brightglade followed
Serenit, the reformed Ice King, up a steep, rocky path wind-
ing between enormous, round-shouldered boulders. Trotting
behind them came the Sea Otter. Marbleheart, Douglas's
Familiar.

6                 Don Callander

Traveling afoot, especially on uneven roads, was hardly
Marbleheart's favorite exercise but he didn't complain. He
loved, most of all, an adventure.

From all around them came the rushing, gushing, gur-
gling, and tinkling of water dashing over stones and minor
falls, hidden in cracks and crevices or dashing across
smooth, flat slabs of dark blue gabro granite. Where their
way crossed an icy streamlet or skirted a shallow pool of
meltwater, the Otter paused a moment to splash and dabble.
Cold or not, water was his preferred element.

The chill breath of the ice field ahead of and above
them whistled down the twisting pathway to pluck at the
men's heavy, fur-lined cloaks and threaten to whip away
their woolen caps.

"Not much farther, young Douglas," Serenit assured him
as they stopped to catch their breaths in the lee of a curved,
ice-carved outcrop.

"How far has Eternal Ice retreated since . . . since Flarman
and I came to Ice Palace?"

Serenit was unbothered by the Journeyman's oblique ref-
erence to his downfall. Flarman and Douglas had burrowed
into the cellar of his Ice Palace from below and destroyed
the Great Grey Pearl in which Serenit, then known as
Frigeon, had locked his human conscience, his sense of
right and wrong.

The resulting catastrophe destroyed the Ice King's for-
tress on the ice—and the vast glacier on which it had been
built, as well. The glacier had been retreating to the north
ever since.

Since his conscience had been restored, Frigeon changed
dramatically—he'd even taken a new name. He'd striven
and worked and suffered and struggled to make restitution
for his evil doings, reclaiming the rock-strewn valley the
glacier left behind.

In less than two years Serenit and his friend and former
steward, Clangeon, had begun attracting Men to settle on
the empty, harsh land- They'd managed to find markets in
the south for the excess glacier ice, discovering ingenious

Geomancer                    7

ways to preserve it as it was carried by the merchant ships
of Wayness and Westongue to distant ports. The frozen
cargoes brought high prices in places where ice had been
virtually unknown before.

Now the southern margin of New Land, as Serenit called
his empty wilderness, was beginning to show new greenery,
rapidly growing spruce, cedar, fir, and pine forests, careful-
ly tended by the earliest of the settlers against a day when
they would cut lumber and saw timbers for the ships that
increasingly plied a newly peaceful Sea.

It was a hard life, with backbreaking labor and only small
rewards, as yet.

"We're eighteen miles from the coast, from Flarmanport,"
Serenit answered the Journeyman's question. "The ice
retreated twelve miles in the first few months after the
destruction of Ice Palace. Slowed considerably since then,
but still retreated five or more miles last year."

"The ground beneath is still frozen, then?" asked
Marbleheart. "It's that hard, I see."

"Here it's still frozen. The warm winds Augurian sends
from Warm Sea have melted and dried the coast. Our trees
are growing as fast as the ice departs."

He was proud of what he and his few men—and a few
women, now. also—had accomplished. It showed in his
eyes and step and sounded in his deep voice- He was no
longer the proud, bitterly cold, wickedly arrogant Air Adept
who had locked away his humanity.

He was still imposingly tall, still had a ringing voice
when he wanted to be heard. But his coloring, pale and aes-
thetic in his days of power, was more the warm gray of the
tough moss on the north sides of his young evergreens.

Despite Frigeon's past, Douglas liked the new Serenit.
He was modest, intelligent, witty, determined but kind,
generous and thoughtful. He accomplished things but didn't
brag about them, as Frigeon would have.

'Twelve children were born in Flarmanport this year!"
Serenit said, stepping out on the path once more. "I wish
one or two had been mine! But I fail, yet, to find a lady who

8                 Don Callander

will many such as I. Who blames them? You'll marry soon,
I know, Douglas. Do you understand my desire to share my
life with a special helpmeet—and sire children to make this
thawing earth fruitful?"

Douglas nodded a bit wistfully, thinking of Mym. She
was far away to the south on Waterand Isle. Realizing that
the First Citizen of New Land—all the title Serenit would
allow himself—couldn't hear him nod, he answered aloud.

"I've thought of marriage and decided it is many things.
The comfort and the love of a good wife? Children are part
of it, of course, and I know I'll love them when they come.
If I can be as happy as some husbands I know, 1*11 be a
much better Man and Wizard than otherwise."

Serenit turned his head to grin at his former enemy.

"Yet your Master, good old Flarman Flowerstalk, has
never married. Nor the Water Adept, Augurian. Nor did
I when I was a Master Aeromancer myself. Marriage and
wizardry seem to conflict, for some of us."

"Mym is Apprentice Aquamancer. It probably doesn't
make any difference, however," said Douglas, returning
the warm grin. "I wanted to marry her when she was just
a pearl fisher's daughter."

"The Lady Myrn seems to me to be an ideal candidate for
wife and companion, from what I've heard of her. You're a
fortunate man, Douglas Brightglade!"

Douglas saved his breath for a particularly steep scram-
ble beside a misty spate of icy waterfall. At the top they
paused while the Otter inspected the cascade and its pool
as a possible water slide.

'There's the Face," said the First Citizen, pointing ahead.

"I'm glad you found me warm clothing," shivered
Douglas. "Do you mind if I set a Wanning Spell about us?
Even this fur-lined jerkin leaks cold air down my back."

"Not at all," cried Serenit. "I wish I could do it for
myself. The few times I regret losing my ability to spell,
it's almost always in small matters like keeping warm."

The Journeyman made a small gesture and spoke a quiet
word. Warmth flowed about them at once. They stood

Geomancer                    9

together surveying the Face—a towering, jagged, 200-foot
cliff of clear, greenish ice topped with a gray mixture of
dust and snow. At its foot lay great mounds of loose peb-
bles, ground-up stone torn from the mountains on either side
of its broad glacial valley in both advance and retreat

The view was awe inspiring, to say the least. Between
them and the foot of the Face was a wide area of pulverized
rock, polished pea-sized gravel that crunched pleasantly
underfoot as they marched across it.

The sun was high overhead. Its rays provided some
warmth, but the Journeyman's simple wanning spell made
them both feet more comfortable. The Otter was accustomed
to cold, having been born in the Northlands on the salt Sea
bay called the Briney.

In half an hour they'd crossed the rolling moraines and
came to where the melting glacier gushed forth hundreds
of streams of clear water from pores and channels both in
the Face itself and underneath its foot, forming a crescent-
shaped lake of wintry blue.

"Look sharp now," cautioned the former Ice King. "That
formation seems .. ."

Before he could finish, a great pinnacle of green ice
clinging to the Face shuddered, cracked like a cannon shot,
screeched like a living thing, and collapsed into the lake,
raising a cloud of mist, fine bits of stone, and ice.

When the cold cloud reached them they turned their
backs to the gust, protecting their eyes with their mittened
hands.

"Happens several times a day," Serenit commented,
undaunted by the violence of the ice fall. 'The Face is
a dangerous place to walk without extreme care."

He led Douglas and Marblehearl off to one side, skirt-
ing the shallow lake between them and the foot of the
glacier wall. They rounded a house-sized chunk of ice
recently calved from the Face, and stopped on the shore
of the lake.

"There it is, whatever it is," said Serenit, pointing across
the again-calm water. "What do you make of it, I wonder?"

Don Cailander

10

In the center of the lake rose a column of dark blue
granite thrice as tall as a man. At first it seemed no more
than that—a thin tower of smoothly polished stone. Looking
more closely, Douglas realized that it was in the shape of an
enormous man.

It had a warrior's broad shoulders and narrow waist,
sturdy legs set slightly apart for firm balance on the gravel
of the lake bed. Its up-tilted face was mostly hidden by a
heavy helmet and slitted visor. From the peak of the helm
flowed a stone plume that all but fluttered in the sharp wind
off the ice field behind.

The statue wore a knee-length kilt, and its legs were
encased in stone jambeaux and its torso in chain mail. A
short sword, of a fashion so ancient that Douglas had only
seen it in the very oldest of Flarman's books, hung from a
wide belt.

The subject was a Man, or rather, a Warrior, A person-
age of stature and dignity, with an aura of defiance and
tragedy.

It faced away from the wall of ice behind it, and me fig-
ure's eyes seemed to stare at the Journeyman, the Familiar,
and the First Citizen on the shore.

A thousand miles due south of New Land at the same
moment, a dark-haired lass in a red swimsuit popped out of
Sea's depths, blew a gust of pent-up breath like a porpoise,
and grasped the side of a small sailboat.

In me boat a graying, older man with the lined and
weathered face of someone who spent all his days on salt
water, reached over the gunwale to help Mym Manstar over
the side and into the boat.

"No luck?" the man asked.

Mym picked up a rough towel and briskly dried her hair
and her arms and hands as she answered.

"Oh, mere's plenty of blue coral. Papa."

"Then why .. . ?" Mym's father began to ask.

"I met one of our friends, the Horniads," Mym explained
quickly.

Geomancer                   II

"They're supposed to be sound asleep all this year,"
Nick Manstar objected. "Or so say you and your intend-
ed Wizard. I never speak to Sea Worms, if I can help
it."

"Oh, Papa!" cried Mym in exasperation. "I've told you
and told you, the Homiads are friendly and harmless. And
they've been very, very helpful to us finding pearls and blue
coral, you know."

"Noted and agreed upon," said her father with a rueful
chuckle. "It's just that I feel the Worms would rather be
left alone, and we Ftowringers would prefer to be left alone,
too. except on pearl business."

Mym pulled a loose cotton dress over her bathing suit
and fluffed her hair with a second towel, softly uttering a
Drying Spell as she did so. Her hair became dry and shiny
almost at once with no traces of residual salt.

"This Homiad told me worrisome news," the Apprentice
Aquamancer said seriously. "I must return to Waterand Isle
at once."

Nick didn't protest. Gathering up the proper halyards in
his strong hands, he set the jibs'l and then the mains'l,
sending his boat skimming toward the distant smudge of
smoke and purple hills marking Flowring Isle.

"You care to say what it was. Daughter?" inquired Nick.

"He ... it... didn't have any details. Sea creatures have
several ways of sending information swiftly through the
deeps but this Homiad had only heard rumors of serious
events, somewhere in the Northlands."

"Could it be King Frigeon, again?"

Mym shook her midnight-dark head.

"No, not Serenit. Douglas is convinced his alteration is
sincere and permanent. Beside, Sea creatures are constantly
watching Serenit as part of their agreement with us. No, the
Sea Worm would have said if it involved the Ice King come
back to plague us."

It took but a few minutes after they had reached shore
for Mym to say good-bye to her mother and brothers and
her many friends on her home island.

12 Don Caliander

"If ye must leave, ye must," Tomasina Manstar said,
heaving a mother's deep sigh. "Will ye wait on nightfall,
this time? Perhaps you'd better, for me to fix supper."

"I should use my pretty Feather Pin that Finesgold gave
me," said Mym hesitantly, digging the magic talisman out
of her pocket and pinning it to her shoulder. "Although I'd
rather travel Sea-bottom with Cold Fire. Flying over Sea is
more than a little boring and very windy, unless you find
some birds to talk to, or a ship or two."

"Ye say the Worm said it was urgent trouble," Nick
reminded her. She couldn't call Asrai until full dark—five
or six hours yet.

"You're right, Papa!" cried Mym. "I can be home—at
Waterand—before nightfall. Augurian needs to know this
message, soonest. Yes, I'll go by way of the Pin."

Suiting her actions to her words, the young lady Appren-
tice kissed her folks once again, whispered. "Cumulo Nim-
bus!" ... and shot into the clear, tropical island sky, head-
ing south and a bit west for Waterand.

Pushing the Feather's considerable speed as much as she
dared, Mym arrived over the Palace of Augurian in just
over three hours. Circling the highest tower, she land-
ed like a bird on a balcony outside Augurian's tower-
top laboratory and knocked on the casement before she
entered.

"Back so soon?" asked the Water Adept, raising his eyes
from an elaborate microscope under which he had been
studying a bit of green metal in a glass dish. "I thought
you'd be gone until Monday, at least."

"Master," Mym gasped, flushed by the speed of her
flight, "I heard word of danger, up north."

The Water Adept straightened from his instrument and
laid aside his work apron as she told him the Homiad's
cryptic message.

"I've heard no such rumor or rumbling," the Water Adept
said.

He walked to a huge and well-worn tome chained to a
marble stand under the westernmost of his tower windows,

Geomancer                   13

where the evening light was strongest, and began thumbing
through it thoughtfully.

Mym used the interval to straighten her clothes and comb
the snarls out of her hair. She said nothing until he finished
reading.

"Well, there's some small hint of... something unspec-
ified," Augurian sighed at last, closing the heavy book.
"Maybe Flarman has heard more of it from his vantage
point. Call Deka, will you, lass? I'll look into the Crystal
Pool. There may be news there."

It took Mym a minute or less to summon the Wraith Mes-
senger, first drawing the room's heavy drapes against the
brilliant setting sun. Deka was hard to make out in strong
light. By the time the interdimensional creature blinked into
view, Mym had lighted three candles and ordered a servant
to bring a pitcher of lemonade—misctywine, a favorite food
of the swift astral being—to the tower.

Deka shimmered in the candlelight, a rather thin, trans-
lucent femaleish figure with huge gray eyes and clouds of
palest silvery hair. She was dressed in a pink-and-beige
gown of a diaphanous material that floated about her rest-
lessly on unseen, unfelt currents of air.

"Greeting, Mym of Flowring Isle, beloved of Douglas
Brightglade, my friend!" she said to Mym with a solemn
bow. As Augurian returned from an adjacent room she
greeted him by name and several titles as well.

"Can you carry a message in haste to Wizards* High?"
asked the Water Adept-

"In a twinkling," replied the Wraith, for whom no distance
was too great. "What shall I say to Flarman Flowerstalk?
Douglas himself is not at the High just now. I carried mes-
sages from him to Flarman yesterday. He and the Otter arc
with Serenit in New Land."

"Yes, I think we need to tell Flarman this news first," said
Augurian. He dictated a short message about the Horniad's
rumor and the hints he had seen in the Book of Cur-
rent Events and in his Crystal Pool. Deka would deliver
his words from memory, just as spoken. She would even

14 Don Callander

reproduce Augurian's inflections and accents.

"Return with Flarman's answer, if it's not too long in
coming," requested the Water Adept. "I know you are
busy."

"Never too busy to serve friends," said Deka. She winked
solemnly at Mym. "I've just delivered hundreds upon hun-
dreds of invitations to your nuptial feast, a total thirteen
hundred and seventy-three persons all over World—and a
few without!"

"Good gracious!" cried Mym. "So many!"

"Perhaps they won't all come," said Deka, daintily fin-
ishing a second glass of lemonade and preparing to depart.
"But think of the presents you'll get!"

She nodded politely to the Water Adept and went out—
like a snuffed candle.

Chapter Two




Under Eternal \ce

"WHO'S the big guy?" wondered the Otter. "Long drink
of water, at any rate!"

"Remarkably lifelike," was Serenit's comment. "Every
muscle chiseled in its proper place. Remarkable! You see
why I wanted you to see it, Douglas."

"Yes, it's most strange," Douglas murmured. "Yet... I
feel something about it. Let me see ..."

He seemed to be ticking items off on his fingers, one-
two-three, but silently, when there was a great bong!, as
of an enormous brass gong struck a single blow very close
by.

"What the mackerel was that!" yelped Marbleheart, jump-
ing straight up in the air.

"No idea!" replied Serenit. He added in a musing tone,
"It's high noon, as you can see from the lack of shad-
ows,"

Douglas shaded his eyes against the glare of the sunlight
reflecting from the Face and the still tarn waters, but he saw
nothing unusual.

At first.

Three breaths after the ringing, they heard a loud, sharp
crack and a low rumble, much like the calving of an iceberg
from the glacier they'd heard a few minutes before, but
nearer.

"The statue's moving!" shouted the Otter. "Did you do
that. Master?"

15

16 Don Callander

"No," replied the Journeyman Wizard. "No, not at all!"

Before they could move or speak further the stone figure
in the lake stepped directly toward them, dashing the water
into a diamond-bright spray. Serenit and Douglas stood
their ground as might be expected of a Wizard and an
ex-Wizard, but the Otter ducked behind a smoothly rounded
stone half-embedded in the beach gravel.

Douglas called hurriedly after the Otter, "Send for
Rannan!"

The granite giant reached shore in four strides and, with
a sound, like two smooth stones rubbed together, he bent
forward to examine them.

"Ah, there you are, at last!" he said in a pleasantly
hollow-ringing voice. "Come along! The Chief is waiting
for you."

He grasped Douglas*s waist in one hand and the former
Ice King by the wrist in the other and, turning abruptly on
his heel, waded back into the lake. In a moment the three
disappeared beneath the disturbed surface.

Marbleheart, rushing to the lake's shore, could see them
moving steadily away under the water, receding farther and
farther toward the foot of the Face. A huge shard of ice
cracked sharply, calved, and slipped with a great roar into
the lake.

Marbleheart dashed to higher ground to avoid the ten-foot
wave thrown up by the plunging berg. When he turned to
look, the statue, the Journeyman, and the First Citizen had
completely disappeared.

The lake waters surged back and forth, slowly calming
again.

"By Remmit!" the Sea Otter swore to himself. "Kid-
napped by a statue! Run for Flarman—or try to follow
them?"

He plumped himself down on a flat stone and considered.
It would take him two or three weeks to reach Wizards'
High, all conditions being ideal. Warning the Fire Wizard
of what had happened was most important—indeed, it was
what Douglas had ordered him to do.

Geomancer                   17

But wait that long? It might be days and days too late!

Still, the giant statue hadn't seemed particularly men-
acing. In fact, it had seemed to be expecting them. Yet,
if Serenit was correct, this spot had been buried under a
thousand feet of glacier ice for tens of thousands of years.

No doubt about it. it's Magic. Marbleheart murmured to
himself. And Magic needed more than a novice Familiar.
What would Black Flame do in such a case? I wonder.

Black Flame, Flarman's dignified, experienced tomcat
Familiar, had become the Otter's mentor, teaching him the
lore and precepts of Familiarity since Marbleheart's arrival
at Wizards' High.

"Never leave your Master's side," the cat said in the
Otter's mind's ear. "A Familiar's place is beside his Wiz-
ard, no matter what!"

"Damme!" cried the Sea Otter, who had learned the
language of sailors long before he'd met Douglas, "What's
to do?"

He looked around for inspiration and noticed a flock of
white birds circling the head of the glacier, slowly and lazi-
ly, enjoying the updrafts caused when the warm southern
wind struck the Face.

"Gulls? Yes, gulls! Hey, you guys! Ahoy! Ahoy!"

His words echoed from the Face and rebounded from
the walls of the valley on either side. The birds paid no
attention.

Drawing on his growing arsenal of useful little spells
taught him by Douglas, Marbleheart gathered a double arm-
ful of dried grasses into a pile and set it afire with a certain
gesture and a word.

A thick column of yellow smoke rose straight into the
air until it was snatched quite away by the steady south
wind.

The Sea Otter waved his forepaws and shouted "Ahoy!"
again and again. At last one of the gulls dropped below
the edge of the Face and lazily swooped to circle about the
column of smoke, cocking its head to study the ground and
the creature waving at him, below.

18 Don Catlander

"Come down!" shouted the Otter. "You mangy, moulting
fish thief Pay attention!"

But the gull swung away and returned to its flock over the
glacier. Marbleheart flung himself beside the dying grass
fire in disgust.

"I suppose I could find someone down at New Land to
carry the message for me." he said to himself aloud. 'That
Clangeon's a decent sort, I mink. That'd take only a couple
of days."

He had decided on this course when a shadow crossed
overhead. Squinting up into the sun, Marbleheart saw three
great white gulls flying there, looking down at him.

"It's a Sea Otter, only," one croaked derisively. "Fish
stealers, they are. Let's go catch some nice, oily sardines
in the fjord."

"He called to us, however," a larger, whiter gull reminded
him. "Let's at least see what he wants."

"Wants to wring our necks, probably, and make supper
of us," said the first, but he followed his leader down to
land beside the ashes of the fire. They stood at stiff-legged
attention, their beads cocked to the side, regarding the
stranger with one wary, beady eye and then, turning their
heads in unison, the other eye.

"You called us?" asked one.

"I need your help, really," said Marbleheart, "and I am
not going to wring anybody's neck—least not anyone in
this gathering, gulls dear!"

"Well, he's polite enough, anyway," said the sour-looking
gull. "Who are you. Sea Otter? And who built a fire in this
Man-forsaken place?"

"I did- I am Marbleheart Sea Otter of the Briney, far
west of here. I am the Familiar of the Wizard Douglas
Brightglade of Wizards' High, You may have heard of
him, if not of me."

The gulls exchanged glances among themselves. Marble-
heart felt he had said enough, so kept silent.

"I've heard of the Fire Wizard Brightglade of Farango
Waters," said the largest of the three birds. "We all have

Geomancer                   19

heard of his exploits. How are we to know you are what
you say?"

"I am his Familiar. I know Magic. I created the fire," the
Otter pointed out, drawing himself up to stand tall on his
hind legs.

"Not so very familiar, it seems to me," sneered the
second gull. "Never heard of any Marbleheart Sea Otter,
and I used to spend my summers on Briney."

"Well, I was just a kit when I left the Briney," argued
Marbleheart earnestly. "I lived on the Farango Waters for a
while, then crossed the Broad to the coast of Old Kingdom.
That's where I met the Wizard Douglas."

"I believe you," said the largest gull. "I am Aurora and I
am Wing Commander of the World-famous Blizzard Flight.
What do you here, Otter Marbleheart?"

Marbleheart described Douglas's visit to New Land and
his disappearance into the glacial lake, only moments
before.

"Yes, I noticed the Man-tike statue," observed the third
gull, speaking for the first time. "It has disappeared, hasn't
it? May have had something to do with the loud chime we
heard."

"Magic, then!" cried the second gull, backing off quickly.
"Clear out of here, I say, Aurora! Magic is nothing to mess
around with, even for a Wing Commander!"

"It's gone now," observed Aurora calmly. "Keep cool,
Codsnapper! The Otter has a claim to our assistance.
Brightgtade is the pupil of the Wizard Flarman Flowerstalk,
and Flowerstalk has long since won gratitude and service of
all Sea gulls, as you'll recall once you stop nattering."

Codsnapper shook his head angrily but accepted the
rebuke in silence.

"What can we do for you. Familiar?" the Wing Com-
mander asked.

"Merely take a message to Flarman Flowerstalk at his
home in Valley. He must learn of this magical disappear-
ance as quickly as possible. I can think of no faster means
than gull-wing."

20 Don Cailander

The flattery soothed even Codsnapper, and in a few
minutes the gulls flew off to rejoin their Wing, watching
from high above- After circling for a few more seconds, the
entire Wing suddenly wheeled and streaked south by west,
following their leader.

"I only hope they don't get distracted," Marbleheart mut-
tered gloomily to himself. "Gulls can be so flighty'"

Marbleheart trotted down to the edge of the tam, now
completely still, reflecting the sky and the Face as if it had
never been disturbed.

He slid smoothly into the bitterly cold water and began to
swim toward the far side, the direction the giant had carried
Douglas and Serenit.

When he reached the spot where the statue had disap-
peared beneath the foot of the glacier, Marbleheart took
several deep breaths and dived, swimming steeply, strongly,
and swiftly into the depths.

The glacial lake was much deeper here than he had
expected. Shortly he was swimming under the Face into
utter blackness.

The longest most Otters care to swim underwater is five
or six minutes. Marbleheart had long ago trained himself to
stay under, swimming fast, for as much as ten, a remarkably
long time even for otters. Even so, by the time he saw dim
light ahead his lungs were beginning to bum for air and his
head to pound painfully.

He swam toward the light, knowing he was beyond the
point of no return if the light didn't mean air, also. He was
deadly determined to follow his young Journeyman.

The spot of light proved to be a collapsed dome of ice
under the belly of the glacier itself, allowing a dim light and
a trickle of air to reach the surface of the water. Marbleheart
gasped great painful gulps of frigid air, paddling slowly
about the circular pocket, surrounded by smoothly trans-
lucent green ice.

Even here the situation was unstable. Any sounds louder
than his breathing and paddling brought slivers of ice crash-

Geomancer                   21

ing down about his head. Marbleheart waited until his heart
slowed, drew a dozen deep lungfuls of air. held the last, and
dived again.

Now the bottom of the ice was only a few feet above
the lake bottom and getting closer. Was the bottom coming
up—or was the weight of the ice bearing it down? He
couldn't decide.

Thrice more he found air in pockets and cracks in the ice
above, managing to avoid drowning only by the narrowest
of margins. He knew instinctively he was traveling in a
straight line away from his entry point—you can't lose
a Sea Otter that easily—and he estimated he had swum
between four and five miles before he came to a much larger
air pocket and crawled up on a beach of polished stones
over which flowed a shallow stream of chill meltwater.

"Have to walk from here, I guess," he muttered aloud.
His voice echoed down long, empty corridors, tall cracks
in the ice.

While in most places the retreating ice rested solidly on
the floor of its valley, there were vertical fissures wide
enough to allow him to continue on—more to the sides
of the ice river than in the center, he found. All the cracks
ran parallel to the glacier's course.

From every side he heard constant sounds of rushing
water, of groaning and snapping ice, and the ages-slow
grinding of ice on stone and stone on stone. Where once
the glacier had flowed toward Sea, inexorably and very,
very slowly, now its course was reversed. It was creeping
back to the everlasting ice fields far to the north.

Was that where the statue had taken Douglas? Only one
way to find out!

By the time night crept into the cracks and passages
about him, the Otter had settled his most common neces-
sities. There were numerous pools, ponds, lakes, and
streams under the glacier, teeming with water-life from
tiny freshwater shrimps to thirty-pound tunas and ten-pound
codfish descended from those trapped by the shifting ice
ages before.

22 Don Callander

He took advantage of the last of day's meager light to
shag a small cod. He took it to a fairly dry rock shelf,
several inches above the stream.

He'd forgotten how good fresh-caught, raw fish could be.
The cod was excellent.

Comes from living with Wizards and such creatures, he
thought.

He finished off the fish down to the last scale and fin
and curled himself into a heat-conserving ball, unmindful
of the frigid air, water, and ice all about his sanctuary.

Before he slept he spared a thought for the gulls, wishing
them good speed on their mission.

/ could surely use a Wizard of some sort right now!

Chapter Three




A Wizard Whisked Away

'THAT double-dratted, rat-nosed, crab-backward, rancid-
rotten, trouble-brewing prestidigitator!" Flarman said in a
conversational tone more startling than any rant or rave.

He threw down his black Crow-Quill Pen, pushed the
ivory-beaded Abacus away from his ample tummy, and
puffed his cheeks until he looked like an angry Santa.

"Speaking of yourself?" inquired Bronze Owl mildly.
"Or some other Wizard?"

"No, I'm but complimenting the craftsmanship of the late
Ice King. What a loss his mind was to decent Wizardry!
I've never seen a more devious, complicated, intertwined,
cacophonous set of incantations than these he used to spell
innocent, peaceful burghers and countryfolk!"

"Even with all the help Serenit-that-was-Frigeon can give
you?" asked Owl. He was busy tallying the Valley-folk's
first responses to the wedding invitations, a tedious task
at best.

"Even with his willing help, yes! Serenit can't unravel
his own purposes in some of these cases. Oh, my aching
bead! Oh, my aching fingers'"

"Take a break, old Fire-eater. You've been at it since
before breakfast without pause," advised Bronze Owl, push-
ing his own letters and lists aside. "If I were of human flesh
instead of good, solid, honest, sand-cast bronze, I'd have a
cup of tea and some of Blue Kettle's lovely sticky currant
buns as a sure cure."

23

24 Don Callander

"You are, without a doubt, the best adviser a Wizard ever
had! These poor citizens of... Filabeggery, wherever that
is... will have to wait a few minutes more while I tackle
some current events. Currently I am dying of thirst and lack
of sugar!"

So saying, the Wizard clapped his hands and called
toward the stairway: "Ho, Blue! Ho, favorite housekeeper
and cook! 0 estimable reviver and resuscitator of harassed
Wizards!"

From below stairs rose a questioning whistle of steam.

"A pot of that really excellent Choin tea Master Wong
brought us, if you please. And ask the Choinese gentleman
to join me. Good tea should be drunk in good company."

From the kitchen came a clatter and a rattling as porcelain
Teacups and Saucers rushed to arrange themselves on a
silver Tea Tray, and Oven popped wide, allowing a savory
cloud of cinnamon steam to precede Tea Cart up the kitchen
stairs to the Wizard's study.

Blue Teakettle herself did the honors, pouring the green
tea and offering sugar from silver Caster and cream just
that morning separated from the milk of the cows in the
hay-sweet byre.

"Where's Wong, I wonder?" asked Flarman. "It's not like
him to miss midmoming tiffin."

Blue Teakettle pointed her spout out the window facing
toward the east.

"Oh, off on another of his long rambles, eh?" Flarman
said with a chuckle. "He says it's difficult to walk at home.
The Imperial Police are always trailing him and spoiling his
pleasure."

"He's also struggling with Question Number Twelve on
the Master Pyromancer's Examination," his bronze adviser
reminded.

"Well, Old Twelve's a real poser, no doubt about that.
I wish I'd paid more attention to that branch of Wizardry
myself. Fire always appealed to me more than rocks, stones,
sand, silt, and dirt. I've forgotten most of what I learned
about Geomancy as Apprentice and Journeyman myself."

Geomancer                   25

"Understandable," observed Owl.

"Maybe and maybe not. I feel I'm letting Douglas down
by not knowing more- It could cost him his Mastery, if its
weight is enough to bend the curve."

He sipped his tea, already in a better mood than when
he had thrown down Pen. Owl chatted on about the early
responses to the invitations delivered early that morning
by Priceless, their closest neighbor, who was ever will-
ing to saddle his ancient gray mare and visit the rest of
Valley.

"Bryarmote and Crystal will be here early, of course.
Bryannote has some ideas for additions to Wizards' High.
Princess Crystal says he has been filling their cavern apart-
ments with blueprints, sketches, and intricate little models
for weeks."

"What does my cottage need with additions?" cried
Flarman. "It's perfect as it is."

"Nearly correct," replied Owl, "but remember that after
me wedding there'll be more people living here than ever."

"Mym? She's no trouble. Takes very little space. Nor
does Marbleheart, who spends his bits of spare time in
Crooked Brook. Oh, well, maybe a dressing room and bath
added to Douglas's room. Can't expect a lady to bathe at the
well, I suppose. And maybe a sewing room ... and space in
the Workshop. Maybe those additions, I say. Not too much
more."

Owl laughed aloud. "I'm only made of base metal but
even I know one common consequence of marriage is
children. How about adding a nursery and a schoolroom,
and a play yard with a swing and sandbox—just in case?"

"Well... you're right, of course. But you know our good
Dwarf. He'll go completely overboard, if I let him. He loves
to build in stone and brick. He blasted out my Workshop
last time I let him expand, and I still haven't found where
all those passages go, deep under the High!"

Owl launched into a description of Bryannote's Hall
under the mountains almost a week's travel on horseback
or afoot lo the northeast. Shortly he stopped, for Barman's

26 Don Callander

attention was not on his chattering. He was peering intently
into the bottom of his empty teacup.

"What is it, Magister?" asked Bronze Owl.

Even Blue Teakettle stopped her cheerful bubbling to
turn and stare at the distracted Wizard.

"I see ... some sort of... trouble'." Flarman said softly.
"In the tea leaves! It's been a terribly long time since I saw
thai face . . ."

Without further word the Fire Wizard rose, snatched up
his best cloak and conical Wizard's hat, and strode from the
room. He plunged down the curved stairs at a quick trot, a
most determined but distant look on his face.

"Care to tell us what you saw in the leaves?" called Owl,
fluttering noisily to the rail at the top of the stairs. Below
stairs there was no answering sound. Not even the click of
a closing door latch.

At the kitchen-yard door. Owl met the elderly Magician
of Choin, Wong Tscha San, back from his long mom-
ing stroll.

"Did you see Flarman just now?" asked the bird.

"No. not since breakfast," replied Wong. "Why? Is there
something wrong?"

Owl told what had just happened in the study. A search
of the house, me byre, the Workshop, and the gardens and
lawns down as far as Crooked Brook uncovered no sign of
Wizard anywhere about.

"If what he saw in his teacup sent him off, perhaps we
should start by looking there," suggested Wong.

The bird and the Magician, followed by a worried Black
Flame and a distractedly puffing Blue Teakettle, climbed
the stairs and entered Flarman's study once more.

"Let me see me cup, please," said Wong.

He studied the soggy green-black dregs for a long time
before putting the cup carefully down and covering it with
its saucer, inverted.

"Reading tea leaves is something of a specialized art, of
course, although I've often done it for amusement. Here,
however"—he gestured to the cup with a graceful hand—

Geomancer                   27

'*if there is anything here to read, 1 quite miss it. Augurian
or Myrn could undoubtedly do better. Reading tea leaves is
in an Aquamancer's line of work. Leave the cup untouched,
please. Blue Teakettle, so they can study it when we send
for them."

Owl's sharp eye caught a shimmering movement in the
far comer of the study among the stuffed lizards and the
strange pink eggs under crystal domes.

Deka the Wraith had arrived.

"I'll pull the drapes." Owl said at once. 'There, little
mist lady! Welcome again!"

"I bring an urgent message to me Wizard Flowerstalk
from me Water Adept," announced Deka with a tiny smile
and a curtsy toward the Choinese Mage.

"Flarman has just departed and we don't know where
he's gone. Starbeing," said Wong, returning her bow. "Can
your message be delivered to any other here?"

'To you. Magician, or to Bronze Owl, an old and trusted
friend, certainly," Deka declared, floating closer. "Listen,
then, to the words of Augurian."

When she had finished Deka accepted a half cup of
cooled tea from Teakettle, and perched daintily on the edge
of Flarman's worn learner couch, waiting for a reply.

"Not much to go on, really," observed the metal bird.
"Some sort of warning of trouble in the north? Surely
Augurian and surely Myrn sense more to what they report
than just that."

"I suspect they are concerned that young Douglas is in
New Land and just now out of touch. Mistress Myro,
at least, would make an intuitive connection," observed
Wong.

"And Flarman mentioned 'trouble' when he read the
leaves—just before he dashed off. The connection becomes
stronger. What else would cause Flarman to dash off with-
out saying anything to anyone about his destination?"

"Precisely," agreed Wong thoughtfully. "You must return
to Waterand, Child of the Stars, and tell me Water Adept
what you've heard here and what has happened- We will

28 Don Callander

need his experience and craft to look into this. Tell Mas-
ter Augurian I will bend my own poor craft to discover-
ing where the Wizard has gone, and how fares his Jour-
neyman."

"At once!" replied Deka, sliding gravely off the couch.
"If I knew where either Flarman or Douglas were, I would
go to them myself. But for some unknown reason, their
whereabouts are hidden from me. Most strange and cer-
tainly magical! Serenit was to show Douglas something he
termed quite unusual in the north, where Eternal Ice melts
away, day by day."

"In the north," repeated Wong. "Go, then! We will look
further than tea leaves can show."

The Wraith nodded solemnly and abruptly . . . was no
longer there.

Wong retired to his room, where he spread a red-and-gold
carpet on me floor and sat upon it, cross-legged, with his
hands folded in his lap and his eyes closed. Everyone in me
cottage that night and the next day walked or slid or rolled
with extreme care and spoke in softest whispers, so as not
to distract his meditation.

It was so quiet that next afternoon that Bronze Owl heard
the cries of a nock of gulls long before his sharp eyes could
make them out in the darkening air over the Far Ridges.
Gulls often passed over Wizards' High, and he thought no
more of it until there came a sharp rap on the front door.

Owl went to answer and found a large, snowy white gull
with a golden beak standing on the stoop, gazing about with
great curiosity.

"Yes, ma'am?" asked Owl, for he recognized a ladybird
of quality when he saw one.

"I am Aurora, Wing Commander of the Blizzard Right
of the Great White Gulls of Sea," she announced proudly.
"I carry a message for the Wizard Flarman Howerstalk."

"Wonderful! Come in. Wing Commander. Blizzard Flight
is well known here in Valley. Unfortunately, the Wizard is
not in just now."

Geomancer                   29

"The message is most urgent," said Aurora, with a wor-
ried frown. "To whom or where should I deliver it, so that
he will receive it as soon as possible?"

Owl considered sending for Wong Tscha San, but the
Choinese magician was still entranced. Better not to disturb
that important work.

"You can safely leave the message with me." he told the
gull leader. "I am Flarman's adviser and assistant. My name
is Bronze Owl."

Aurora bowed deeply at the introduction. Bronze Owl
was as famous among birds as Flarman was among Men
and Dwarfs. She at once repeated Marbleheart's words as
exactly as she could remember them.

"And the great stone thing took the Journeyman and the
First Citizen and carried them right into the tam and under
the glacier itself," she concluded. 'The Sea Otter asks for
assistance. I believe he intended to follow them, if he could,
to see where the men were taken."

Owl thanked the Wing Commander profusely and offered
her and her followers what food they might like from the
High's larder, also recommending the quality of trout who
lived in Crooked Brook. Aurora thanked him in return and
went off to see to her flock—and the trout.

"This gets more and more weird," Owl said to Black
Flame. "First Flarman and now Douglas! I must send word
to Mym and Augurian!"

Augurian that afternoon spent an intense session with
several magical instruments and appliances, spells and
enchantments, becoming more and more frustrated as the
time flew by.

Mym assisted him silently, handing him books, reading
to him from charts and scales and making adjustments to
equipment as he required.

At the fall of the short tropical dusk of Waterand the
Water Adept sank wearily to a stool and shook his head.

"All I can discover is that something is blocking my far-
vision on every useful level of magic as regards this danger.

30 Don Callander

Or perhaps it really doesn't exist. No, the Homiads would
never falsify such a rumor. It's like a stone wall between
us and the Far Northlands."

"Neither natural nor usual, would you say?" the Appren-
tice asked, sinking down on the cushioned window seat,
elbows on knees and looking as discouraged and upset as
her Master felt.

"Not at all! We should be able to see at least the shape
of what blocks our view, its size, its density. Nothing! The
power behind it is both very great—and very, very old. Old
as the hills!"

The sky about the westering sun flashed brilliant green
just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Deka arrived,
sharp and clear in the dim light.

"[ have come from Wizards' High," she told them with-
out her usual greetings.

"From Barman?" asked Augurian eagerly.

"No, Aquamancer! Flarman is suddenly gone, his where-
abouts unknown. He read tea leaves and simply rushed off
without saying where he was bound. And Bronze Owl relays
word, arrived by a Great White Gull from the Northland.
Will you hear it?"

"Of course," replied Augurian and Mym, together.

The Wraith repeated Marbleheart's message and Wong's
addendum. After that me tower laboratory was complete-
ly still.

"Douglas captured by a stone giant?" Mym cried.
'There's our connection with the Homiad's vague war-
ning! The danger the Sea creatures spoke of must surely
have been the living statue of stone in the glacier."

Said Augurian, "I've learned to trust your intuitions, dear
Apprentice. I agree that is my feeling, also."

"We must go at once, before the trail gets too cold to
follow," said Mym firmly. "Marbleheart is a resourceful
creature, but he's just begun his Familiarity. He'll need
help!"

Augurian nodded his head. but said, "I will be of more
use here. I believe in time I can break down the wall of

Geomancer                   31

stony silence and see what lies beyond. We'll need to know
what has caused this blockage, sooner or later. You must go
alone . . . better yet, stop at Wizards' High and take Wong
with you. He's older than the hills himself, and his magic
is strong."

Mym admitted to herself that the Water Adept was right.
The Choinese gentleman, if he agreed to accompany her,
could be most helpful. He had tremendous reserves of
magic lore and a special way of looking at things that
told him secrets others, even Augurian, might not see.

"I'm on my way!" she declared. "I'll keep in touch, if I
can punch through this awful screening."

Augurian turned back to his complicated apparatuses and
magical searching-spells. He waved at Mym as she paused
a moment at the door.

"You sense this spell-screen, do you?" he inquired of the
Wraith. "If so, stay awhile and consult with me if you will,
please."

Deka nodded brightly and perched daintily on the Water
Adept's workbench.

"The flight to the High will take me five or six hours,"
Mym said to herself. "I'd better get something to eat before
I leave. I can sleep when I get there."

She headed for her apartments to throw together her
traveling kit and ordered a light supper brought to her
there. She ordered one sent to the tower for the Water
Wizard, also, knowing he wouldn't think to eat unless the
food was right there as he worked.

"Someone must go to aid the Otter," Wong decided. "He
is capable of most things required from a Familiar, but. . ."

"Yes, there is strong magic in this, I'm afraid," Owl
agreed.

"We'll await the Water Adept's response, however. It
will be brought by his Apprentice, I'm sure, knowing the
Lady Mym as I do."

The metal bird consoled Black Flame, Flarman's own
Familiar. He had never seen him so upset before.

32

Don Cailander

"Sorry, old boy," he said to the torn. "I know you feel
you should be with Flarman, but perhaps you can help Lady
Mym instead. Be patient."

Black Bame cocked his head to one side, sat on his
haunches, and seemed to say, Well, after all, patience is
one quality we cats have in abundance.

Chapter Four




Stony Gorge

BY midmorning of the third day since diving into the
glacial lake Marbleheart was forced to climb out of what
remained of the under-glacier stream and trot upon the
surface of the ice. The corridors within the ice had become
mere cracks and the cracks had become narrow scratches,
only. It had grown ever colder, and very little water remained
unfrozen on the surface.

The Sea Otter was well suited for this journey- His thick
fur kept him warm, and his padded feet gave him good
traction on the slippery ice. In truth, it should have been
considerably colder, he thought as he gallumped aiong.
Even this far from Warm Sea the southerly wind sent north
by Augurian tempered the arctic air, where the late-summer
sun touched it.

On either side the bare, blue mountains closed in, pinching
off the glacier's valley at its head.

Before long, I'll lose the glacier altogether, he thought.
And the water, too, I suppose?

Now he often trod on bare rock instead of slushy ice.
He studied a series of fresh scratches in the blue gabro
underfoot. Marbleheart decided that they were made by
the stone man as he walked, dragging his feet slightly
with each step. Ice-polished pebbles had split into jagged
pieces, sharp-edged, where the statue crunched them under
his ponderous feet.

The trail led between shoulders of barren cliffs rising

33

34 Don Callander

fifty times the height of a man. The path was paved with
black ice here, sheltered as it was from the sun and the
south wind. Marbleheart skated along blithely, making good
time.

The ice stream ahead of him tumbled down a six-foot
frozen fall. He stopped to rest and look about.

"Strange smell!" he sniffed. "Something like that volca-
no, Blueye, over to Old Kay. Sulfurous, Douglas termed
it."

He scrambled to the top of the fall and stopped before a
tall, black iron gate that closed off the way.

It stood at least fifty feet high and forty feet from side
to side. The frozen headwaters of Eternal Ice flowed from
under the gate.

"Arrrgh!" the Otter groaned. "How to get inside?"

The leaves of the gate met closely in the middle and were
anchored flush with the vertical cliff sides, leaving no space
at all for a six-foot Otter to wriggle through- The bottom of
the gate rested on the ice. The thought of climbing over the
top made the Otter dizzy.

Far above his furry head he spied a single keyhole. He
thought. If I can climb that high, I can perhaps squeeze in
through the keyhole.

"And soon!" he said aloud. "Before someone comes
along and opens the gate."

If they were swung open, the leaves would crush him
against the side walls—and even if he escaped that, there
was absolutely no place to hide for a mile downstream.

"Us Otters are pretty good climbers," Marbleheart assured
himself, although he remembered with a shudder the canyon
walls along upper Bloody Brook. At least there there had
been ledges and clefts to use as claw-holds. But he and
Douglas had met the Falls Pixies, who had shown them a
better way past the falls.

"No Pixies here!" he exclaimed, although he spent sev-
eral minutes looking about for signs of little people or any
sort of fairy, birds, or even an insect who might help.

"So, I'll do it for myself," he declared stoutly, and

Geomancer                   35

began to climb. Fortunately the ornate scrollwork deco-
rations some ancient Dwarf blacksmith had hammered and
welded to the sheet iron surface of the gate provided ample
claw-holds.

The going became easier as he climbed. Every six feet
the gate's designer had included a narrow ledge, intended
to provide lateral strength to the heavy iron and keep it
from sagging. Here he could rest a moment, but visions of
the gate clashing suddenly open and sending him smashing
against the wall hastened his climb-
Just below the enormous keyhole there was a slightly
wider horizontal beam. It took him several careful minutes
to scramble over its lip. A slip here and he would tumble
twenty feet to the rock-hard ice below.

"I must have vertigo or maybe it's that acrophobia Master
Barman talked about," he panted, refraining from looking
back and down.

"Almost there, Briney Otter!" he encouraged himself.
While he rested he studied the keyhole just above him.
It had a richly ornamented escutcheon that would provide
claw and paw grips, but he'd have to leap the last six feet,
just to grasp its lower edge.

Not giving himself time to think about it, Marbleheart
jumped upward and caught one foreclaw on a forged iron
ivy tendril. He found a second hold, then purchase for
several other claws.

Drawing himself up by his forelegs and twisting his long
torso upward, he just managed to hook his right hind foot
over the edge of the escutcheon. With a final heave, he shot
upward and collapsed inside the keyhole itself, gasping but
safe for the moment.

"I need more exercise," he muttered. "Gotten fat, living
so easy since I came to stay with Wizards!"

A warm, heavily misted breeze blew out through the key-
hole, smelling strongly of rotten eggs. The mechanism of
the lock—a great bolt, heavy levers, and a coiled spring—
posed no problem to the agile Otter. He slipped past the

36 Don Callander

metalwork and peered cautiously out the other side of the
keyhole.

The sulfurous odor was at once explained. The iron gate
closed off the lower end of a narrow, V-shaped hollow. The
sides and floor of the gorge were dotted everywhere with
splashing, roaring, bubbling, steaming and rumbling clouds
of superheated white vapor and jets of boiling water.

On level places between dark blue-green pines, yellow
birches, and pale green poplars, hot pools of varying shades
of aquamarine and turquoise burbled almost merrily. Boil-
ing water gushed from hillside springs or spurted in inter-
mittent geysers. On either side of the stone causeway that
led to the gate on this side were puddles of viscous, choco-
late brown, boiling mud, popping and plopping like oatmeal
cooking in one of Blue Teakettle's Pots.

Marbleheart had never seen, heard, or smelled any place
like it.

He half clambered, half slid down the inner facade of
the gate and trotted along the causeway, taking cover in
a twisted clump of deodars just beyond the mud pots. In
the distance he caught a glimpse of three tall stone figures
walking slowly away from him between erupting geysers,
but there was no one closer by, no watch at the gate.

The Otter hitched up his courage and followed the trio
at a safe distance, taking advantage of outcroppings of
yellow-stained stone and occasional scrubby bushes for
concealment. After a time the statues disappeared over
a slight rise- He approached the hill cautiously, swerving
now and again to avoid pools of hot blue-and-green water
or hissing jets of live steam.

Peering over the crest of the rise, he faced a village of
squat, round stone huts, roofed with thick, flat slate. The
huts were set in a circle about a rough, stone-paved plaza
before a larger, conical building, which was crudely deco-
rated with primitive stone carvings of flowers and fantastic
beasts.

Between this and the open side of the square stood a
squat, short stone dais or pillar. Seated on its flat top, ten

Geomancer                   37

or twelve feet above the ground, Marbleheart saw Douglas
Brightglade and First Citizen Serenit.

'Thank goodness!" the Otter breathed. "They appear to
be alive, well and whole, and that's a blessing, at least."

At first there were no stone natives in view but as
Marbleheart moved cautiously around the edge of their
village, individual statues began to emerge from the huts
and move toward the larger building beyond the prisoners.
They moved in stony silence except for the thudding of
their feet on the paths.

From their perch, Douglas and Serenit watched them pass
without speaking. In fact, aside from the muted roaring hiss
of distant fumaroles and the sudden sharp hiss of geysers,
there was no sound at all.

That silence was broken when a clash, loud and sharp,
like two dense stones struck together, came three times.
The tribesmen increased their pace and filed quickly into
the cone-shaped building.

Heavy iron doors crashed shut behind the last to arrive.

Marbleheart slinked between empty huts, listening and
watching, until he was on the edge of the cleared square
around the stone pillar. Rather than cry out, he took a pace
away from his cover and stood on his hind feet, waving his
forelegs in slow arcs in the direction of the captives.

Douglas, who had been relaxing as comfortably as pos-
sible atop the pillar, sat up at once and waved back. He
glanced carefully about, saw no guards or other passersby,
and gestured to Marbleheart to come to the foot of the
strange monument.

"Welcome to Stony Gorge," said the Journeyman in a
loud whisper, "You must have had a pretty grueling trek,
following us here."

"Are you well?" asked Marbleheart anxiously, shrugging
off the comment.

"We're as well as can be expected," replied Serenit as
Douglas nodded- "These people don't feel the cold nor do
they seem to eat, but having a Wizard along provides such
luxuries as food and warmth."

38 Don Callander

"Not that it's so cold here," said Douglas, waving at the
geysers and hot springs.

"Personally, I've not had a thing to eat since I caught
a land-locked salmon, some way back," complained the
Otter.

Douglas looked thoughtful for a second, made a gesture,
and dropped a picnic basket covered with a red-checkered
cloth down to the Otter. Marbleheart caught it quite neatly,
spilling nothing.

"Will you come away with me? We can maybe find a
place to hide until we can get out of this place," he called
up to the prisoners.

"No, I think not. For one thing, hiding places are mighty
hard to find, as you can see. And I want to find out just
why we were brought here in the first place," Douglas
told him.

"They haven't told you yet?" marveled the Otter, lift-
ing the edge of the napkin to see what sort of goodies
Douglas had transported from the Wizards' High kitchen.
Fried chicken pieces, a container of potato salad, ham,
cheese, and warm, buttered dinner rolls'

"No, the statue who brought us here wouldn't say a
word," said the First Citizen.

"He expected you. Maybe he thought you should expect
him. Still, if you're comfortable and safe ..."

"Safe as a mouse at Wizards* High," Douglas assured
him. "It would be handy if you would hide yourself some-
where, however, and observe a bit as a free and outside
agent, if you understand what I mean."

"Perfectly!" chuckled Marbleheart. "Well, I'll find a nook
or a cranny somewhere and enjoy what's in the basket, if
you don't mind."

"After you've had your bite to eat, you might see if you
can eavesdrop on their meeting inside," added the Journey-
man, pointing over his shoulder to the building behind him.
"Maybe get some idea what these strange Stone Men have
in mind for us."

"I'll certainly do that," the Otter agreed, his normal good

Geomancer                  39

humor restored by seeing his Master and the First Citizen
fairly safe. "I'll report back when and if I can."

He scampered off between the two nearest huts, avoiding
a stream of slow-flowing, malodorous water, and disap-
peared around one comer of the hall, carrying the picnic
basket under his left front leg.

After gobbling the chicken, three ham-and-cheese sand-
wiches (with mustard—Fire Wizards love mustard), and the
potato salad, Marbleheart hid the empty basket and circled
the large stone edifice, studying its construction and layout
as he went.

It was built of rough-hewn, flat blocks of the dark blue
granite laid in even courses to the height of thirty feet. Its
walls were pierced with many small slit windows to let in
light—the statues might not need air but they needed light
to see by, he decided.

Climbing the rough outer wall was no great task. He
selected the eastern wall to scale, as there were fewer huts
on that side of the building.

He reached the lowest bank of windows but found that his
view inside was blocked by the hips and backs of the throng
of statues gathered within. He climbed another two dozen
courses and peered cautiously through one of the top-row
windows.

The interior was just about as he had expected. Circular,
its floor sunk well below the level of the plaza outside, the
sides of the pit lined with rows of stone benches—really
just square-cut granite blocks without backs—on which the
Stone Men sat or stood.

Opposite the single door was a low dais on which stood
the largest and heaviest of all the statues Marbleheart had
yet seen.

As the Otter settled down to watch and listen on a narrow
sill above the heads of the crowd, this figure raised his right
arm for attention and the low crowd murmur fell away
at once.

This Stone Man, Marbleheart decided, was in Authority.

40 Don Callander

"I am Detritus," the statue chanted in a deep, booming
voice that somehow reminded the Otter of a landslide. "I
am Chief of Stones!"

"We so recognize you, 0 Chief!" the gathered statues
replied in rough chorus, some sort of ritual response.

"Let us consult together," intoned the Chief of Stones,
and he sank to the dais cross-legged and folded his massive
arms on his knees.

"Watchman has brought us two Wizards," announced
Detritus- "He has done well!"

"He has done well!" responded the assembly, turning to
point to Douglas's kidnapper. Watchman raised his hand in
acknowledgment of the accolade, but said nothing.

"Without further preliminary," continued the Chief, "we
shall interrogate these Wizards."

The throng buzzed and nodded.

The Stone named Watchman rose and went out through
the door. Although he couldn't see from his high view-
point, Marbleheart was not surprised when Douglas and
his companion appeared in the doorway, floating casually
along on air, followed by a disconcerted Watchman, who
had evidently expected to carry or drag them into the hall.

"Come forward, then. Wizards," said Detritus, gesturing
imperiously. "We wish to interrogate you."

Douglas floated right up to the platform and settled in
midair at the level of the Chief's eyes. If Detritus or the
other Stone Men were taken aback by the Wizard's bold
move, they allowed no sign to show on their rigid faces.

"I'm ready to answer questions or provide any informa-
tion in my power," said Douglas pleasantly. Serenit floated
down to a bench—with grave dignity—in the front row.

"You are Wizards, we know," began Detritus, matter-of-
factly. "How do we address you?"

"If you mean my name, I am called Douglas Brightglade.
By profession I am a Journeyman Pyromancer, student of
Flarman Flowerstalk of Wizards' High," Douglas replied.

"Never heard of either of you," grated the Chief, shaking
his head.

Geomancer                   41

Douglas showed his surprise at this. Almost everyone
had heard of Rarman.

"My companion, however, is not a Wizard. He once was,
but has since been stripped of his powers and title. He's
therefore but an ordinary man and his name is Serenit of
New Land. He was formerly known as Frigeon, the Ice
King."

Detritus nodded, but said, "I have no knowledge of Serenit
nor of Frigeon, either."

"These are fairly recent events," said Douglas.

"Whether he is also a Wizard or not is unimportant,
however. You are a Wizard, Douglas Brightglade!"

"I am—a Journeyman Wizard, not yet advanced to full
Mastery, however."

"But you will right a grave magical wrong," Detritus
persisted, leaning forward suddenly. "For such is said to
be a Wizard's duty, ever!"

"If I can, of course—or I may be able to find help for you,
if your problem requires a full Wizard. Tell me about it."

Detritus gestured to another of the Stone Men, seated in
the front row near Serenit. This individual, not quite as tall
or as impressive as Chief Detritus, rather bent and much
older, rose and bowed to the dais.

"This is Archey, our Tribal Storyteller," Chief Detritus
explained to Douglas. "He will tell you our story, if you
will please listen."

"Proceed," said Douglas, settling back on a cushion of
thin air to listen with evident interest.

Chapter Five




The History of the Stones

THE Storyteller drew himself up as tall as he could,
threw up his arms dramatically, and chanted in a high,
singsong voice.

"Hear now, stalwart sirs! Lovely ladies! Eager offspring!
Hear the Tragedy of the Stone Warrior Tribe, 0 brave and
trusty Stones!

"The tale begins countless ages agone, when we were
still true Men in body and stature, dreaded warriors but
also lovers of and workers in, even worshipers of, hardest
stone. World's very foundation, the Sacred Blue Gabro!"

In those days, he said, there had been a long era of
peace—not a peace of progress and prosperity, but a peace
of languor, of disinterest, of self-indulgence. Men cared lit-
tle what happened elsewhere in World at that time. The win-
ters were easy. Larders were ever filled. Maidens danced
in spring season's first soft nights. Children played in cool
lakes. Men hunted for meat each day, sat before fires at
nights, and told fantastic stories of the Beginning of Things.

It seemed peace and contentment would last forever.

But there one night appeared, as a sudden black-ice bliz-
zard from the Star-marked Pole, a terrible and powerful race
of Beings who called themselves merely Darkness.

The mysterious, fearsome Darkness gathered about
themselves all manner of discontented, evilly disposed
and wretched Men and Near Immortals, even some few
rebellious Fairies and twisted Dwarfs, Trolls, and Gnomes.

43

44 Don Callander

They granted them powers and nches, invincible weapons,
and impenetrable armor—and taught them powerful magic
spells—in exchange for unquestioning servitude.

Darkness's minions extorted gold, jewels, and the fairest
of Men's daughters and sons as tribute, hiding them away
betimes in deep cavities and crevices at the very top of
World. They sent horrible, shambling armies under sub-
orned princes to conquer Mortals and Near Immortals, Men,
Fairies, Dwarfs, Elves, to slay or enslave them as they
saw fit.

"How long ago was this, do you know?" asked Douglas
when Archey paused for breath and dramatic effect.

"In centuries? A thousand, or close to," replied Archey,
startled by the unaccustomed interruption.

"History repeats itself, I guess," sighed the Journeyman.
"But go on, please."

The Storyteller nodded and continued his tale of fear,
horror, loss of innocence, bloodletting, thunder, vivid light-
ning, and senseless cruelty.

"All this was not enough to satisfy Darkness, even so,"
he continued.

Here and there a certain few Beings, a handful of brave
individuals, tribes, and nations resisted both the tempting
bribes and the sudden, wild attacks, fought with desperate
bravery and occasionally with success against the powerful
Minions of Darkness.

Often when things seemed darkest, a hero would appear
and lead the fight for years, decades, even centuries, to
preserve freedom and tife awhile longer.

First among these few heroes was a tribe of great warriors
who worshiped ancient menhirs. Stones of Vast Power,
standing in secret places of World. These called them-
selves Men of the Stones after the mysterious monoliths
and circles of standing stones from the very dawn of life
on World,

"We Stone Men," said Archey proudly, "had a firm
faith. A tribe or a single man, striving to be as strong and

Geomancer                   45

pure as the Sacred Blue Gabro, would be as everlasting as
the stone. We had no need for the blandished wealth and
power of Darkness. We feared no one, nothing, not even
Darkness!"

Darkness demanded these Stone Men become its ser-
vants, for they were nearly invincible in battle, ever brave
in adversity, willing to fight to the death against impos-
sible odds.

"We were the finest warriors and also the finest builders
in World," claimed Archey earnestly. "We had become
such by adhering to our bedrock principles for a cause that
was right and just."

Darkness sent wave after wave of heavily armed minions
to conquer and destroy the Stones—to no avail. At last,
the very Darkness itself came down from its hollow places
under the top of World to lay siege to the Stones' stronghold
here in Stony Gorge.

"It was a time of bitter cold, yet of bright, all-consuming
fire, of earsplitting thunder by day and continuous light-
nings by night! But we endured!" Archey cried, caught up
in his own tale.

The Stones on their benches also sat enthralled by a story
they had heard a hundred thousand times before.

"Even Darkness itself could not overcome us by mere
force of arms," Archey's voice fell lower and lower until it
was almost a whisper. "Faceless Darkness decided that only
the most twisted, the most wicked magic could defeat us."

A powerful Mortal Wizard was summoned and paid a
great deal of gold and many rare and powerful talismans
to destroy the Stones or place them where they could no
longer influence other Men. .. .

"His full name we never knew. Wizards had always
before been leaders against Darkness, you well know.
To find that one of them was willing to do evil, cruel
enchantment for mere pay and power ... the thought almost
shattered our courage.

"This Wizard stole his power from the very stone we

46 Don Callander

worshiped! He drew on earthquakes, avalanches, rivers of
white-hot lava, dire secrets locked in the deepest interior of
World, to do his terrible magicking."

"A renegade Geomancer," guessed Douglas, although he
had only read of such Wizardry in his studies under Flarman
Flowerstalk.

"Where we were once ordinary men—brave, strong, and
mortal—in one great flash we became of the very stone we
venerated! The Wizard made us eighteen feet tall, immense-
ly strong, but painfully slow of thought and movement. He
cursed us with almost-eternal life and buried us alive under
Eternal Ice where everything was locked, forever frozen,
still and dark- We knew nothing of World for a thousand
years, except the slow rumblings and gratings of the glacier
that drained the ice field away to the south."

"The way Watchman followed when he brought us here?"
asked Serenit.

"Precisely," agreed Detritus.

"We lived, for a millennium, knowing nothing. Oh, we
heard great but distant explosions now and then and sensed
awful cries of agony. Occasionally the very bedrock beneath
us shifted uneasily, but we never knew what had happened
out in World," continued the Storyteller, deeply saddened.

After the most recent tremors, the ice above and about
the Gorge suddenly began to thin, allowing some sunlight
to reach them. One day it collapsed like a weakened dome
of glass, burying the village in its shards. Then the geysers
and hot springs began to erupt, steam, and flow.

When they finally were able to open the Gorge Gate,
the great outflowing glacier was receding at a remarkably
fast rate.

"The entire ice sheet was actually melting! If this was
so, we saw, the glacier would grow shorter and shorter,
shallower and shallower."

"Ah, I begin to understand .. . somewhat," said the Jour-
neyman. "I can tell you why and how the glacier receded—
and that it will continue to shrink for some time to come."

Geomancer                   47

"We'd like to hear that story very much," said the Chief,
"but let Archey finish his story first."

"Of course! Sorry!" Douglas apologized.

"Well, it's short telling, from then on," sighed Archey.
'The glacier has indeed shrunk. It has released its grip on
Stony Gorge, at least. We are almost free! We could walk
out on the surface now, if we wished to.

"We could have free contact with other free Men. But
mere is still one problem, Sir Wizard!"

Douglas nodded.

"We are still men of enduring stone! We have never
been comfortable not being true Men as we once were!
We wish to return to our former state. To be no longer
frightening ogres to all the rest of World! To be finally
disenchanted! Surety you can understand that. Sir Wiz-
ard?"

"I do understand. But what do you believe I can do?"
asked Douglas.

"You must undo the spell that made us undying un-
Beings," cried Detritus. "We wish to be flesh and blood
again, to live a decent, proper span of years, to bleed when
we are cut, to ache when we are struck, to sire sons and
daughters and watch them grow, strong, clean! You must
help us, Wizard Brightglade!"

Douglas sat in midair, elbows on his knees and fist to his
chin, pondering the problem for a long time.

"1*11 do what I can, of course. There's no spell that can't
be broken, but as my friend Serenit here will attest, some
enchantments take longer to disspell than others."

Serenit nodded, solemnly.

"When I was Frigeon, I overdid my magicking in much
the same way this unknown Geomancer did, and today
innocent people are still waiting in terrible agony or, worse.
in oblivion, for their release, just because of me."

"What will you do?" Detritus asked Douglas, ignoring
the First Citizen's explanation.

Douglas replied at once. "I can call upon a Master

48 Don Callander

Pyromancer of great experience, and a Master Water Adept,
also, as well as a Magician from Choin—I'm not sure what
his specialty is, if any. Together we'll surely break your
spell, in good time."

"Well," said Detritus firmly, "to make very sure, we'll
keep you two here with us, until the task is done.'*

"That's neither friendly nor fair," objected Serenit, leap-
ing to his feet.

On his high window ledge Marbleheart clapped his paw
over his mouth to keep from crying aloud in protest.

Douglas gestured to calm the former Wizard—and the
unseen Otter as well—and said, "Friends, you've been ter-
ribly wronged. It's my duty to right such wrongs, where I
can. It's not necessary for you to hold me prisoner. I will
not desert you."

"So you shall not," ground out the Chief of the Stones
stubbornly. "For you will stay hostage here until we are
flesh and blood again."

Douglas looked at the Stone Man leader for a long
moment, then nodded his head.

"I see I can't do anything to change your mind. However,
let me send a message to my Master Flarman Flowerstalk,
for he is probably the most powerful of the Wizards remain-
ing in World."

"If need be, you may," said Detritus. "But I want you
to try your own powers first. The fewer Wizards we call
upon, the less it will cost us in the end."

"There's no fee asked. Sir Chief," protested Douglas,
shaking his head. "When I do it, it will be because I wish
to alleviate suffering and set your people free, not for any
hope of gain."

"Nevertheless .. .," growled Detritus.

"Honored Chief," spoke a member of the crowd, rising.

"We will listen to the wise Master Dolomit but briefly,"
snapped Detritus.

"Sir, a word has been uttered here by the WizanTs com-
panion, A word that we may have forgotten."

Geomancer                   49

"I fait to understand, Dolomit," Detritus ground out. "Get
to the point!"

"Simply that we perhaps are not being quite fair to this
young man. After all, it wasn't he who imposed our ordeal
a thousand years ago."

Detritus scowled until Dolomit sat down amid a spattering
of approving applause.

"My decision is carved in hardest gabro! We will not trust
any Wizard, since a Wizard betrayed us in the first place,"
he declared angrily. "We will treat them well and fairly but
I will not let him go free until they—or someone—work out
our salvation."

And that, Marbleheart saw, was that.

Several minutes of heated debate followed, but the Chief
of Stones refused to crack. At last it became a matter of
either accepting Detritus's way or challenging his leader-
ship. None of the Stones wanted to do that, now that he'd
led them so close to their goal.

"We may all suffer for your hard-headed distrust," warned
the Stone named Dolomit. "The modem Wizards may pun-
ish us for wrongfully holding one of their fellows. What if
they turn their magic on us?"

"No," Douglas interposed quickly. "I accept your con-
ditions, Chief Detritus. I'll attempt the spell breaking on
my own as you wish—and I may well succeed, for all I
know."

"You've already found some of your magics will not
work against us, I suspect," Detritus said suddenly.

"That's true! The original powerful spell used to enchant
you protects you from my powers—at least for the moment.
I say again, you need not fear me. My duty and desire is to
save you all from the ancient Geomancy. I'll abide by your
rules."

"You've no choice," snorted the Chief.

"I'll seek no revenge nor impose any punishment, unless
I discover punishment is due for acts you've committed that

50 Don Callander

I don't yet know about. If so, you'll then be judged by
fellow Mortal Men, not by any Wizard. That is a statement
of fact."

Douglas and Detritus locked equally stone-hard stares for
a long-held breath, and it was the Chief of Stones who
snorted and looked away first.

'Take them back to the Column! Give them anything
they need to work their magic," he ordered Watchman.
"Does that suit you. Wizard Brightglade?"

"Barely. It's warm enough and dry enough up on your
Column, so 1*11 not complain. Allow the First Citizen to
go home, however, I pray you. He can do neither good
nor harm to you Stone Men, being no longer a Wizard
himself."

"We have only your word for that—and his word,"
snapped Detritus, preparing to step down from the dais.
"And we've not yet established whether we can trust any
Wizard, have we?"

"Well, then I'll begin at once—from the top of the col-
umn outside, if you so insist. Anyone may watch who
wishes. 1 have no secrets except as pan of my craft- Come
one! Come all!" cried Douglas, floating over to Watchman
to be led away.

"You must take this seriously!" shouted Detritus after
him.

"Oh, I do! Very much so!" cried the pupil of Flannan
Howerstalk with a nod and a wave. "I'll keep you informed
of any progress I make, although I must say again it would
go much faster if I could call in my Master."

"Not yet," insisted the Chief, sounding weary now. "You
must understand that we cannot afford to trust. . ."

But me Journeyman and the First Citizen were already
out the door, returning to their strange prison column.

Marbleheart skipped gingerly down the outside wall of
the meeting hall, and trotted off to find a cozy place to hole
up and finish his picnic lunch. He would go talk to Douglas
when the crowd had lost interest in him.

Geomancer                   51

"Which should be around an hour or so," he decided,
"judging by what I've learned about Men, even Stone Men.
By then it'll be time for a nice dinner from Blue Teakettle's
kitchen, I do believe."

Chapter Six




Mym Sets Out

WITHOUT the Magical Feather Pin, which the Dowager
Princess Finesgold had given her, it would have taken
Mym Manstar all of three weeks to reach the High. As
it was, within six hours of leaving Waterand Island she
whizzed over upper Crooked Brook and zipped down for a
light-footed landing at the double front door, where Bronze
Owl was hanging from his personal nail in pale gibbous
moonlight.

"I rather expected you'd be flying in," Owl said to the
beautiful Aquamancer's Apprentice. "You and Augurian
obviously take these disappearances as seriously as do
Wong and I."

"Of course!" said Mym emphatically. "I intend to get my
Douglas safely back in time for his Examination. I don't
want to have to put off our wedding until spring, either.
Not with the invitations already out."

"Besides, Douglas may need help," said the Owl, opening
me door and letting out the cheery, homey air of the High
to wash away her worry and concern like a warm, fragrant
shower.

"Come have some supper. Wong is still trying to make
heads or tails of this business in his own ways."

"Indeed," said Myrn as she entered the kitchen. She pat-
ted Blue Teakettle fondly on the cheek and waved gaily to
the neat rows, ranks, and racks of utensils, from stove lid to

53

54 Don Callander

saltcellar. They clattered, banged, scraped, and rattled their
fond welcomes.

"First, let me have a cup of the same tea Flannan drank
before he whisked off- And let me see his cup, if you've
saved it, dear Blue."

Flarman's teacup was produced at once, still covered
by its inverted saucer, along with another cup of freshly
brewed Choin tea from Blue Teakettle's spout.

Myrn sipped her tea as she studied Flarman's dried
leaves, now looking rather soggy and bedraggled. As
she finished, the Choinese Magician appeared from the
stairway, wreathed in smiles and bowing double in greet-
ing.

"I see you've already begun your own researches," he
said, pointing to the teacups.

"Yes, indeed. Take a cup with me, please do, and I'll
look at your leavings, too, just in case," said Mym.

"My pleasure, Honored Lady," said the Magician, and
when he was seated at the great kitchen table—he looked
like a child sitting at the vast board, so tiny was he and so
huge was the table—he sipped tea while Mym interpreted
what she saw in the other two cups.

"There are always at least two layers of leaves," she
explained. 'The obvious—and the hidden."

"So I was taught," Wong said, nodding his understand-
ing.

"The obvious indication in Flarman's cup is that he is
about to undertake a long, urgent journey. We already knew
that. It doesn't say where he is going, however, or why—
as far as I can see."

"It never does, does it?" commented the Magician. "Do
you see what lies hidden beneath?"

"Contrary to what most people believe, it isn't the tea
that provides prognostication," Mym murmured as much
to herself as to the Magician. "It's the water, really. And
the water in Flarman's cup has almost dried up."

She peered into the cup for several minutes, frowning
and muttering helpful spells.

Geomancer                  55

"This indicates . .. something to do with a deserted land.
The direction indicated is either north by northeast or south
by southwest."

"But we already suspected that, too," observed Bronze
Owl. "From what the Homiad told you, Mym, and the Otter
told the gulls. Douglas is in the far northeast."

"But the leaves don't indicate that Douglas is involved,"
she added, looking puzzled. 'Time may have obscured that
part. Flannan read them fresh and departed quite suddenly.
Perhaps he was able to see Douglas's name here, but I
can't!"

"Perhaps because the Journeyman is no longer in dan-
ger," suggested Wong, helpfully. "It might be so, if Flannan
has already rescued him."

Mym handed her own teacup to Wong.

"Here, you can read my leaves better than I can- One
should never try to read one's own future, Augurian says."

The Magician took her cup and leaned back in his
chair, almost disappearing below the table's edge. His
voice floated up to them after a moment.

"Yes, yes! You are promised a long. cold journey to the
north very clearly. Under that the leaves say to look for a
beacon of fire in the sky."

"Douglas or Hannan?" wondered Owl, clapping his
wings together loudly. "It must mean to watch for a
signal."

"Certainly my interpretation," agreed Wong, reappearing
above the tabletop- "The leaves also say that you will marry,
soon and well, my dear."

'Well, that's a revelation'" said Mym with a slight touch
of sarcasm.

"But it does seem to indicate that our present problem
will not delay the wedding," insisted the Magician.

"Let me see your cup then, please," said the Apprentice
Aquamancer. "Ah, yes, also a long, cold journey! I was
planning to ask you to accompany me to look for Douglas
and Flannan, Revered Sir."

"I intended to offer my services," Wong answered.

56 Don Callander

"And. . . here it says something about returning home
soon. I had thought you intended to stay for the wedding."

"I had so intended, of course. My country . .."

"Needs you, I'm afraid," said Myrn, peering at the leaves
again. "I see confusion, death, and bloodshed—not a pretty
picture—in your homeland."

She put the cup down and looked sadly at the tiny Choin.
He returned her concerned look for a moment, and then
turned to the Owl.

"We know we are to go north, then, and the two of us
shall go ..."

"Three," said Bronze Owl. "I'll go, too."

^Someone must stay here," Wong pointed out reasonably.
"Mym will confirm what I have already sensed. There is
a singular blockage of information flow from and to the
northeast of us."

"I feel it, too, as did Augurian," said Mym, nodding.

"What ifFlannan sends a message to us here, or Augurian
needs to tell us something and no one was here to receive
it?" reasoned the Choinese Magician.

Owl reluctantly agreed he would remain at the High to
serve as their mutual point of contact. "But how shall I relay
any messages to you?"

"Send the gulls to look for us if you don't hear from me
first," decided Mym. 'They fly as fast as anyone."

"There remains only the question," said the Apprentice
early the next morning as she gathered up her travel kit
and slung it over her shoulder, "of exactly where we're
going."

'To New Land," said Wong. "Where we last know
Douglas, Serenit, and Marbleheart to have been. Serenit's
people can set us on their path. Flarman may also have
stopped there for the same information."

"Let's go, then!" Myrn exclaimed.

They stepped through the back door into the mist-
shrouded kitchen courtyard. Owl, Blue Teakettle, and
Black Flame were there to see them off, along with the

Geomancer                  57

Familiar's wives, Pert and Party, the five Ladies of the
Byre, who paused on their way to the dew-heavy meadow,
the Thatchmice, who were among Douglas's most ardent
admirers, and a score of silly doves from the cote above
the Workshop door who came just out of curiosity.

Mym, laying her hand on Wong's arm, whispered the
words that activated her Feather Pin. The Magician grasped
his lacquered black hat with his other hand while Mym
pointed her free arm up and north.

There was a whoosh of displaced air. The pair shot aloft
and dwindled to a tiny double speck in mere seconds.

Because Flarman might have stopped to have a word
with Bryarmote, too, Mym shaped their course first for
Dwelmland, the Dwarf's subterranean principality.

On her most recent visit, when she was on her way to
join Douglas in Old Kingdom, Bryarmote's chief steward, a
jolly old dwarf named Fortoot, had showed Mym the hidden
family entrance to Bryarmote's vast system of caverns so
that she could call at any time without having to pass
through the miles and miles of canyons, gorges, arroyos,
passages, and tunnels that marked the other, more formal
entrances,

She flew, therefore, directly to a tiny patch of soft green-
sward high on one shoulder of a peak above Dwelmland
and found the heavy bronze door hidden behind a clump
of purple rhododendrons. She knocked politely on the prop-
er panel and within ten heartbeats the door swung wide
open.

"M'lady!" Fortoot himself greeted her with a broad smile
and a sweeping bow. "Welcome back to Dwelmland!"

"How did you know we were coming?" marveled Mym
after she had introduced the Magician. They followed the
plump little steward into the mountaintop and down a rap-
idly moving stair that carried them along much faster than
they could have walked.

Fortoot explained proudly the stair had been a present to
the Dwarf Prince and his bride from Barman; one of his
own inventions.

58 Don Caliander

"Our Home Guards keep a keen watch on the skies, of
course," the steward answered her question. "Little passes
over our borders they don't detect and identify. Recently,
for example, they reported a large flock of arctic gulls
passing swiftly overhead, headed toward Valley."

"Yes, they carried an important message to the High,"
Mym told him.

"This morning 1 chanced to be supervising the tuning
of Princess Crystal's new carillon near the doorway when
the word came of your approach. The Silver Dwarfs who
installed the carillon turned out to be rather badly tone deaf,
you see. The chimes were Prince Bryarmote's wedding gift
to his bride."

"A different sort of wedding ring," laughed Mym. She
spent the rest of their swift descent into the heart of the
mountain explaining the pun to her Choinese companion.

Fortoot led them at once to Bryarmote, who was working
in his office. He sat at a huge and cluttered drawing board
set before a picture window overlooking one of the most
spectacular views in Dukedom—of the deep blue, steep-
sided fjord that opened onto Sea near Fairstrand.

"We cannot stay very long," Mym told him with her hug
and kiss of greeting. She waved off suggestions of lunch,
dinner, staying the night, and talking the Dwarfs blue in the
face, as he put it, then explained their mission.

"No, Plarman didn't come this way or we'd have seen
him. My Guards would have spotted him, you can be
sure."

"Which must mean he transported himself by a spell of
some sort, for he would have flown close over here, in any
case, even if he hadn't stopped," Wong reasoned. "I guessed
that, of course. I could trace the course of his Transportation
Spell but it's a rather laborious process, I'm afraid."

"We'll go to New Land first, and without delay," Mym
said firmly.

"Give me five minutes to speak to my foremen and my
wife and mother," the Dwarf Prince insisted, "and I'll go
with you. My people came originally from Far Northland,

Geomancer                   59

you know, and I'm familiar with its ways and dangers.
Not a place for the unwary, especially at this time of
the year."

"Why this time of year, pray?" asked Wong-

"It'll be snowing heavily up north soon and the cold will
be very intense, if it's not already. You can get as lost
flying in a heavy snow as you can over Sea in a fog. No
landmarks visible!"

While he instructed Portoot and his staff, Mym took the
Magician to meet Lady Finesgold, the Prince's mother, of
whom Mym was particularly fond, and Bryarmote's shy
new bride. Princess Crystal.

"How I wish I could go along!" cried Finesgold after
bearing of their mission. "I know just how you feel about
that handsome boy. I'd do the same if it were my man lost
in the Northland wilderness!"

"You are certainly welcome to come along," said Mym,
trying not to let her dismay show. Her party was already
too large for her best comfort. Finesgold was as tiny and
delicate looking as the Choinese Magician—and probably
just as tough. "The Pin can carry us all."

"No, no! I won't burden it or you with a little old lady.
Besides, I'm in the middle of repotting my flowers for
winter, and that can't wait longer."

"Mym is burdened enough with a tittle old Magician,"
agreed Wong, who felt immediately at home with the
Dowager Princess- They were both of the same age as
well as size.

"Now you two!" cried Mym. "Any more of such non-
sense and I'll leave you both behind!"

"I go along with these adventures just for the amuse-
ment," Wong confided in Finesgold. "I haven't lifted a
hand in spell since I first came to Wizards' High."

"That's not true!" Mym objected. "He's to be a mem-
ber of Douglas's Examination Board. I have to be nice
to him."

Shy Crystal, who had said very little, was shocked by
her teasing words.

60 Don Callander

"My dear mother-in-law tells me that I should learn to
tease, as you do. I find it quite difficult. May I come and
stay with you for a while at Wizards' High, someday?
Perhaps I could leam such affectionate impudence from
you, pretty Apprentice."

"As soon as we are wed—well, perhaps not immediately
after, but soon," promised Mym with an amused, embar-
rassed chuckle.

"How wonderful it is to be affectionately teased," sighed
Wong. "My people. Princesses, forgot how to tease each
other gently over seven centuries ago—and it's a fault I
regret to this day."

Finesgold left her pot gardening long enough to order
them a picnic basket to carry on their way and returned
them to Bryarmote*s study, where he waited for them.

"Send us word of Flarman and Douglas as soon as you
can," requested Finesgold.

"And the cuddly Marbleheart," added Crystal.

"The Sea Otter would love you, ma'am," Myrn told
her. "If he likes anything better than eating, it's being
cuddled."

Chapter Seven




A Column of Wizards

AFTER midnight—the arctic late-summer days were still
very long, the nights short—Marbleheart left his den under
one of the huts and stole softly to the Stone Column. If
there were guards, they weren't keeping very close watch.

He found Douglas sitting cross-legged before a tiny flame
with another hovering over his head. The First Citizen slept,
wrapped in several blankets. Douglas was reading a small,
thick tome of excruciatingly tiny print.

"Hoy!" whispered the Otter from below. "Care to chat
a bit?"

"Come on up," called the Journeyman, marking his
place with a forefinger. "I just remembered this little
book in Flarman's library, so I sent off for it. It has a
footnote mentioning a wicked, old-time Earth Adept named
Obsydion. He seems to fit the Storyteller's description of
the Stones' enchanter."

Marbleheart leaped and scrambled nimbly to the pillar
top and curled himself in front of the tiny fire. Serenit slept
away, snoring lightly.

"Huh! He's some help!" chuckled the Otter, pointing his
nose at the First Citizen.

"He's bereft of Wizardly powers but not Wizardly opin-
ions," said Douglas. "It's better to have him asleep than
trying to help."

"Oh? Well, I think I hear you saying *go away' to me,
too," said Marbleheart, pretending a huff.

61

62 Don Callander

"Don't be silly! I was about to call you, anyway. Arc
you safe? Have you had dinner?"

"Yes and no," replied the other, curling up again. "I
found a hiding place under yon hut, lined it with some
sort of soft, dry moss, quite warm and snug. I've learned
that Stone Men rumble and mutter in the night, although I
don't think they actually sleep. Habit, I guess. And no, I
haven't had a thing to eat in a terribly long time, beloved
Master."

Douglas made a quick gesture and a steaming platter of
juicy pork chops and curried carrots appeared before the
Otter, who was so used to this kind of magic by now that his
only reaction was to wiggle over onto his belly and begin
to eat with gusto.

'Tell me," he said around a mouthful of hot, spicy car-
rots, "if you can bring a book from Flarman's library and
gourmet cuisine from old Teakettle's kitchen, why can't
you send a message to the Wizard and ask his help on the
Stone's enchantment?"

"Good question. Familiar!" said Douglas- "Mainly,
because Bronze Owl says Flarman is nowhere to be found.
He's evidently already on his way here, so I don't need to
call him. And the first thing he'll say when he arrives is
going to be, 'What do you know about Geomancy, me lad?*
So, I'm studying up on a sort of magic that isn't practiced
much these days."

"The kind of magic that did for the Stone Men?" asked
Marbleheart, reaching for a third chop. "Do you want a bite
of this?"

"No, we dined as soon as we got back from the tribal
meeting. What did you think of it, by the way?"

The Otter sat up to sip a bit of hot, sugary coffee.

"It had the feeling of family," he said thoughtfully, "and
in the end, it was Papa Detritus who told everyone what
was going to happen, or else."

Said the Journeyman with an approving nod, "He did let
them debate, however."

"Oh, I guess so. But he'd have gotten his way even if

Geomancer                   63

they had all opposed him. Is that democracy? I felt most of

the Stone citizens disliked the idea of holding you hostage,

for example."

'There is that," conceded the young man. "Even the most

democratic societies work that way, however. After all, the

Chief is responsible. They were probably right to let him

try his way. If that fails, it'll be Detritus's neck, not theirs,

you see."

Douglas raised his head and seemed to be listening to the

wind blowing over Stony Gorge. The sky was overcast and

through the pervasive reek of hydrogen sulfide they caught

the smell of snow in the air.
"What is it?" inquired the Otter.
"I need a way to signal," Douglas told him.
"Easy enough," said his practical Familiar. "Build up the

fire a bit- There can't be another fire within ten days' ride

of this forsaken place, can there?"

Douglas nodded as if to say. Why didn't I think of that?

and waved his hands over the tiny flame between them.
It sputtered gleefully and flashed a bright yellow shaft

of light high into the air, pencil thin but considerably taller

than the surrounding hills.

From far down the Gorge a Stone guard cried out in

startled alarm, and a moment later Detritus poked his Stony

face out of the hut nearest the Meeting Hall.

"Hey, you! Put out mat blasted fire!" he bellowed.
"Sorry, Chief! Just part of my magicking," called

Douglas, mildly. "Reiax. You'll be happy to know I'm

making progress, if slowly."

"Hmph!" growled Detritus, scowling, but he withdrew

into his hut, letting the leather curtain fall back into place

across the opening.

'Think Flarman will see it?" murmured Marbleheart.
"Without a doubt," said Douglas. "Eat up and get back

into hiding. I may need you free tomorrow. Just in case,

old friend."

"Here I go. Mind if i take the bones to gnaw?"
He scurried back to his hiding hole—apparently under

64 Don Callander

the Chief's own hut—and Douglas resumed his study of
the ancient chronicle.

"Did you see that?" cried Wong Tscha San.

Mym's party was spending the night at Serenit's rustic
lodge not far from where his Ice Palace had once stood.
Clangeon, Frigeon's steward, had made them welcome, but
had been unable to give them any news beyond pointing
out the path his master and the Journeyman had taken to
the glacier five days before. They planned to follow that
trail, via Feather Pin, to the Face as soon as it became light,
despite the threat of snow.

"Did I see what?" growled the Dwarf from his bed.
"What's to see?"

"A bright, yellow shaft of light in the sky to the north,"
explained the Magician. "It shot straight up and stayed for
several minutes, then disappeared. Right over mere!"

"Northern lights, probably," said Bryarmote, but he rose
from his bed and began to pull on his clothes. "Better wake
the Lady Apprentice."

"If it was just aurora borealis," asked Magician, "why
should she get up?"

"Because it's time we were on our way, of course. Nights
are longer here than they are in Choin. It's past my fast-
breaking time, as it is."

Mym had not seen the light in the sky, but she at once
reminded them of the tea leaves* advice to look for fire in
the sky.

"Keep the proper direction firmly in mind, please," she
told the Magician, "while I borrow some warm coats from
Clangeon. We'll go check on it."

"A distress signal, do you think?" Bryarmote asked Wong
while Mym was talking to the steward. "Does it mean one
of our Fire Wizards is in trouble?"

"A beacon, rather, I would think," said Wong. 'They are
both more than capable of taking care of themselves."

"Then why are we here?" grumbled the Dwarf. He was
a slow awakener.

Geomancer                  65

"Well, sir Prince, there is always the possibility we can
be useful," Wong replied quietly. "My people have a say-
ing. 'Better sure than sorry.' "

Bryarmote nodded in agreement, inhaled a cup of very
strong, very black coffee when it was served, and felt more
able to face the snowy skies over New Land. Mym came
and ate heartily but quickly.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

Her two companions were, and in a few minutes they
were skimming swiftly up the smooth-sided valley carved
by Eternal Ice over countless ages.

In less than an hour they pulled up just short of the tow-
ering blue-ice Face, and landed gently on a gravel mound
beside a deep, still tam.

The Dwarf ranged back and forth on foot, bent almost
double, searching for confirmation of the gull's story. Mym
and the Magician sat back to back on a frosty rock beside
the lake, studying the area closely in their own special,
magical ways.

"It hasn't snowed enough yet here to cover any tracks.
I see the Otter's paw marks in this patch of sand, easily,"
called out Bryarmote. "And two sets of prints that have to
belong to Serenit and Douglas. Douglas is wearing the stout
Dwarf traveling boots I gave him years ago."

"A stout Dwarf's boots? Why not a thin one?" wondered
Wong. "Sorry! Anything else?"

"Not much—signs of gulls roosting, of course. Fishing
in the lake from the looks of the mess they left."

"You've missed one other sign," Wong spoke up, point-
ing to the flat shingle beach before them.

Bryarmote came to look at once.

"No Man has feet that big!" he exclaimed. "He must be
twenty feet tall!"

They slowly circled the giant's footprints. They led out
of the tam and returned to it again, clearly. But the marks
made by Douglas's boots came just so far, then stopped.

"That confirms it," said the Apprentice. "The gull Aurora
had it right, sirs."

66 Don Callander

"And the Otter followed the statue right into the lake,"
said Bryarmote. "Brave fellow! He followed the statue, or
whatever it is, right under the glacier ice, beyond."

"So I see it," agreed Wong. "But how are we to proceed?
I suppose we can travel under the water, too."

"No, we'll fly in the direction of that beacon you saw
before dawn," decided Mym. "I'm sure it was made either
by Douglas or by Harman. to show us the way."

"No need to tarry here, then," agreed the Dwarf.

They joined hands once more and shot up and over the
Face, following Wong's memory of where the tight signal
had been seen.

"There's my Douglas!" cried Mym in relief as they
glided over Stony Gorge several hours later. She put on a
sudden burst of speed, arrowing straight at the two figures
on the stone column in the cobbled square.

"No, now, wait...," protested Wong. "Perhaps ..."

But Mym's momentum carried them straight to Douglas
and Serenit. Seeing them coming, Douglas waved cheerily,
and Serenit quickly straightened his robe and brushed at his
thinning hair. He was a bit vain about his appearance before
ladies and strangers.

"Ahoy!" Mym called out happily. "Are you mates cap-
tives? Are you in danger? We come to help you escape
durance vile, my dear!"

Douglas gathered her in his arms, gave her a kiss and a
tight squeeze.

"Yes and no, as my Familiar said a few hours ago."

"Yes to what?" asked his betrothed, forgetting to let
him go.

"Yes, we're prisoners. Hostages, really."

"Hello, Serenit!" Mym said. "May I present Wong Tscha
San of Choin, a Magician? You already know Bryarmote,
of course."

Everybody bowed or shook hands before Mym returned
to the matter of being hostages.

Geomancer                  67

"You really are captive here, sweetheart?" she asked.

"As I said."

"But you said no, also."

"I meant, 'No, you can't rescue us from durance vile,' "
said Douglas calmly.

"But come on! I can fly us out of here in a second," Mym
protested.

"You could, but we can't," Douglas said, and he sat them
down by the fire and explained about the Stones and their
enchantment.

"I've given my word I would help them, you see," he
concluded. "I was just doing my homework when you came
dropping down out of the snowclouds. I'm certainly glad
you're here, sweet, and that you brought Wong, for you
both certainly can help puzzle out this strange spelling.
Bryarmote, you're always welcome on an adventure, of
course."

"I will be delighted to assist you, Master Douglas," said
Wong, with a formal bow. "It won't count against your
Journeying this time."

He referred to the Journeying rules that applied when
the Journeyman had gone recently to Old Kingdom to
investigate the Coven of Black Witches. To qualify for
his Master's Examination, he had had to carry out that
task without help from other Wizards.

"No, this time I'll take all the help I can get. I can't
find very much anywhere about Geomancy. It seems to be
a blind spot in Flarman's library and my training."

"Not surprising," said Wong. "There .. ."

"Say," interrupted Bryarmote, who had been studying the
stone village with great interest. "Where's Flarman, after
all? He should've been here well ahead of us."

"Haven't seen him," admitted Douglas. "I hoped he would
see the light and come."

"Well, we saw it, instead," said Myrn. "Where's Marble-
heart?"

"Around somewhere. Probably looking for some lunch,"

68 Don Callander

said Douglas. "He should be within call. anyway."

"So he's safe, is all that matters," said Mym. "Now ...
what can we do to help here?"

Snow soon began to fall steadily and after noon tempera-
tures plummeted. The Journeyman, the Apprentice, and the
Magician sat earnestly discussing the magical matter of the
Stones.

Bryarmote and Serenit, used to the ways of Wizards,
listened patiently and silently, keeping their eyes peeled
for signs of hostility among the natives.

Several times various Stones passed through the square
but paid them no attention whatsoever, even though the
number of prisoners had more than doubled.

Twice Detritus came from his hut and stood glaring sus-
piciously at them, rocklike fists on his hips, but he made no
comment. He was content, it seemed, that something was
being done on the Stones' behalf.

"This ancient book I found in the library at Wizards'
High," Douglas said, "has only a short footnote that men-
tions a rock-hard Wizard named Obsydion- He was evi-
dently a creature of Darkness, a long, long time ago. No
other details."

"I was going to say," Wong said, "that I know little or
nothing about the craft of Stone Wizardry—Geomancy, as
you call it—but I have a slight knowledge of the man
Obsydion. Ten centuries ago, he lived. He was eventually
destroyed by his own evil Dark Master, so there's no hope
of finding him today."

"His tomb, his remains? Perhaps they would provide
further clues?" asked Mym with a slight shudder.

"No, Lady Apprentice! If his body was preserved, it was
hidden by the Darkness, perhaps under the top of World.
Even I would hesitate to travel there and, beside that, an
intruder in such a place might well stir up more than he
bargained for. Best to let dead Wizards lie," warned Wong,
snaking his head vigorously,

"A bit like the barrow-wights in Old Kay, eh?" mused
Douglas. "Well, what then? I admit I'm stumped."

Geomancer                   69

They sat in silence made even deeper by the blanket of
snow about them. Douglas dug out a handkerchief from the
sleeve of his gown and, with a long-familiar spell, arranged
and enlarged it as a tent to cover them all.

Mym in turn summoned a small, warm, dry breeze and
blew all the snow from beneath the tent until their perch
was completely dry and comfortable.

Marbleheart appeared through the thickening whiteness
and joined the party, greeting them all cheerily. He reported
that the Chief had spent the afternoon in his hut arguing
with his advisers about the hostages.

"As I thought, the others aren't too happy about possible
consequences of capturing a Wizard," the Otter said.

"The quickest way to solve that is to solve this rid-
dle," said Mym, and she set about preparing supper for
the party.

Wong was so still and silent for so long it was apparent
he'd been in a "seeing" trance, an important tool of his
craft- The smell of roast pork and fried rice, his own recipe
sent along by Blue Teakettle, at last recalled him to the
Gorge.

While he ate daintily with ivory chopsticks, he began to
speak.

"Yes, Obsydion was almost certainly responsible for the
spell cast on the Stone Warriors a thousand years ago. His
Earth Magic is the most ancient of all the disciplines of
Wizardry. Earth came long before even Water and Fire.
Its spells are incredibly complex and unbelievably strong,
for they include safeguards against disspelling by any other
powers than those of a Geomancer."

"Which explains," said Mym, "why we can't make a
crack in this Stone business."

"Correct, my dear Apprentice! Usually, one discipline
has at least some entry into all the others, and vice versa,"
Wong went on with a pedantic nod. "You recall? Fire
can boil Water. Water can quench Fire. Air can attack or
support them both. But Stone, Earth, is all but invulnerable
to the others, except over a tremendously long time. The

70 Don Caltander

most ancient Geomantic enchantments ... they're like . . .
well, like stone walls."

"And there are no longer any Geomancers alive?" asked
Marbleheart-

"There was a Geomancer who belonged to the Fellowship
of Wizards, before the war that ended in Last Battle three
hundred years ago," said Wong. "I don't know his name,
but perhaps Flarman or Augurian will remember. He may
still be alive."

"I've never heard either of them mention the craft, let
alone the Wizard," mused Douglas, sounding quite discour-
aged. "And the Fellowship scattered far and wide after Last
Battle—this one could be just about anywhere in World!"

Mym reached out and took his hand.

"I think we must get in touch with Augurian. At least we
know where he is. Goodness knows where Flarman is!"

"I begin to worry about Flarman myself," admitted
Douglas. "Yes, we must speak to your Master about
this, I don't think anyone else knows more about the old
Fellowship than he does, not even Flarman."

"I'll try to call to Master Augurian, then," decided the
Lady Apprentice. "If it doesn't go against your promise to
Detritus, Douglas."

"No, I consider only myself bound here by my word in
that," said the Journeyman. "How will you get in touch with
Augurian?"

"Unlike some Masters," Mym said pointedly, "and their
Apprentices, my Master and I long ago set up a way to
keep in close communication. I should be able to let him
know where I am, even with this blocking spell we feel. It
seems to block incoming messages. Perhaps it won't stop
an outgoing one. I'd go to him, except even the Feather Pin
would take a couple of days or more, I'm afraid, from this
distance."

While the others watched in fascinated silence, the
Apprentice stood facing south on the edge of the column,
her arms folded across her chest and her eyes closed. An
aura of power shimmered about her that all could feel and

Geomancer                   71

which Douglas and Wong could see as a faint blue glow
against the snow-filled night.

"Magister!" called Mym, although Marbleheart was sure
she didn't move her lips to speak. "Magister, your Appren-
tice Mym Manstar calls you."

Silence for a long minute-

"Yes, Master. I am with Douglas as well as Serenit, Magi-
cian Wong, Prince Bryarmote, and Familiar Marbleheart.
This place? It's known as Stony Gorge, I'm told. Six or
eight days' foot travel due north of New Land. Yes. Yes!
Thank you!"

There was a sharp click! and the aura dispersed from
about her.

Before she could drop her arms and turn back to the
waiting men and beast, a translucent image of Augurian
materialized beside her, wavered twice, then became seem-
ingly solid. He seemed to have trouble making contact with
the stone surface. Even after they'd begun to talk to him, he
would drift slowly downward into the stone, as if he were
sulking into thick mud, and had to pull himself up to the
surface of the rock again with an effort.

Now he smiled at their welcoming shouts.

"What can I do to help, friends?" he said in his very deep,
rumbling voice, which always reminded Douglas of waves
breaking upon green rocks.

Chapter Eight

^

Summit Meeting

AS Douglas opened his mouth to begin, he was inter-
rupted by an angry shout out of the snowy darkness.

"You blasted Wizards'" shouted Detritus. "I'm keeping
an eye and an ear on you! Don't think I'm going to feed
all that great crowd you've got up there. You can all starve
for all I care!"

"Our kindly host," explained Douglas with a wry grin.
"Name's Detritus and he's Chief of Stones, the people I was
about to tell you about, Magister. They need our help."

"Gracious!" said Augurian, a little startled. "I must meet
him shortly, Douglas."

"You undoubtedly will, Magister. But for now, tell us ...
how go your researches?"

Augurian shrugged his shoulder. "I must admit I'm as
ignorant as I've been since Mym brought me the Homiad's
brief message. It's clear the danger the Sea creatures spoke
of was to you, Douglas. I would not have been so concerned
had not Flarman disappeared at the same time."

"Yes, where is Flarman? I wonder," interrupted Douglas.
"I thought I felt him nearby but now I believe it was Mym's
presence I felt, not Barman's, just before I sent up the
flare."

"I suggest that we start at the beginning, young Joumey-
1 man," murmured Wong from deep within a pile of furs.
-'" "Master Augurian needs to be brought completely up to the

Vi
^                             73

Don Catlander

74

moment. It wouldn't hurt the rest of us to hear it straight
from the beginning, either."

Douglas nodded and began with the discovery of Watch-
man at the Face of Eternal Ice Glacier.

The tale took quite a while to tell, ending with the Choin
Magician's faint recollection of a Geomancer in the original
Fellowship of Wizards.

"Ah, yes!" cried Augurian at that. "Now that you mention
it, 1 do recall an Earth Wizard among us before Last Battle.
Litholt, if I rightly recall the name."

"I can't recall," said Wong. "I was never a close member
of the Fellowship in those days."

"But your memory is correct. Revered Sir!" the Water
Adept said- "Litholt was—I hope, stilt is—the last of the
wartime Geomancers. The craft was dying even then. It is
by far the hardest of the Mysteries, you know."

"And the most durable, as witness these poor Stones,"
Douglas said. 'Their spelling is at least a thousand years

old!"

Marbleheart shook his head sadly. "If this Litholt person
is dead, as it might be, our best hope of disspelling the
Stones is gone."

"I hope it's not so, for their sake, and for the sake of
an important and useful branch of Wizardry," said Serenit.
"Perhaps . .. there may be Apprentices? Most of us had
Apprentices, in the olden times, even I- You've met him,
Douglas?"

"We met Cribblon in Old Kingdom," the Journeyman
answered. "He spoke well of you as his Master, Serenit—
except as a cook, as I recall. He's even now working toward
Journeyman, over in Old Kay."

"Ah, yes, so Flarman told me," said Serenit. "But pardon
my interruption, Master Aquamancer. Pray continue'"

Augurian was considering, chin on hand, staring into the
snow curtain that surrounded them.

"Perhaps there was an Apprentice. But I think not.
Barman was the first of us to take on a student after
the Chaos. The thing to do to begin, at least, is seek out

Geomancer                   75

UtholL A Geomancer, I agree with Master Wong, should
be able to undo the spell on the Stones."
"And Flarman?" asked Mym.

*The Fire Wizard has given no indication he needs our
help, of course," said Augurian, gravely. "I believe the
search for this Litholt should take priority, don't you?"

"I agree, seeing that my freedom depends on settling this
enchantment business," said Douglas.

"Then I'll begin at once," said the Water Adept, and with
a nod to them all and an affectionate pat on the arm for his
Apprentice, he disappeared.

'Then it's just a matter of waiting," sighed Marbleheart.
"Why didn't you go with your Master, Mym Manstar? No
need for you to shiver here on the rocks."

"Oh. I would have, if I had my Magister's power to
project myself back to Waterand. Not yet, anyway! Perhaps
he won't take long to find our old Geomancer, now that he
lias a name and a memory to go on."

** 'Project'?" wondered the Otter, snuggling down be-
tween Mym and Douglas under the furs. "What do you
mean? Augurian wasn't really here in person -.. ?"

"Exactly," said Mym, sleepily. "We saw but his image
here. His body never left Waterand. It's similar to what
Master Wong does when he's entranced."

While Marbleheart pondered this latest magical feat, the
others settled down to sleep, to await the results of the
Water Adept's search.

They were breaking their night-long fast when the
Aquamancer appeared once again, bobbing up and down
through the surface of the rock before he managed to find
equilibrium once more. He looked even more weary and
drawn than before, Mym thought.

"I've found it!" he announced. "I know where Litholt is,
right now."

"Catch your breath," Mym ordered him, as a fond daugh-
ter might order a hardworking father.

"There are some problems, however," added Augurian,

76 Don Callander

after a pause to steady himself.

"Always are," grumbled Marbleheart, softening his words
with a grin. "Nothing is ever simple and easy, is it?"

"Long before Last Battle in Old Kingdom," began
Augurian, "the Wizard Litholt left Old Kingdom and
the councils of our Fellowship and retired from active
participation.

"We never knew, never had time to find out, where the
Stone Wizard had gone ... but now I know. A place called
Serecomba. . ."

"Serecomba!" exclaimed Wong. 'That's a great, terrible
desert in the far south of Choin!"

"Correct'" said Augurian, nodding. "Do you know it
well, then?"

"Hardly at all! It's regarded as impassable, totally with-
out water or any living thing. A deadly desert."

"But is it so, Magician?" asked Douglas. "According to
Flarman, no desert is ever completely deserted."

"I... I... I admit that I never set foot there or even
questioned the facts when I learned them as a young man,"
the Choinese said. "I never had occasion to travel into
Serecomba. No one lives there, as far as I know, so it held
no interest."

"Yet it sounds like quite a perfect place to go and become
a recluse, an eremite," observed the First Citizen. "If this
Litholt wished to be left alone, that is."

"Evidently just what was desired," said Augurian. "The
dark, stark, terrifying years of the War affected even us
Wizards very strongly. As you well know, Serenit."

The former Ice King nodded solemnly and sadly. "I find
that I have blocked out most of my own memories of that
time. I don't even recall the name of Litholt."

"You must project yourself to this desert, then, and ask
the Geomancer to come help us," Myrn said.

Augurian shook his head.

"That's the problem, my dear young Apprentice. I have
tried and tried but I can get no answer. Litholt's not taking
calls."

Geomancer

77

"Maybe the Wizard is dead," Marbleheart said, wringing
his forepaws.

"No, someone has set up a live spell barring all inter-
ference from outside," said Augurian. "Similar to the spell
shrouding this place, actually. No, someone will have to go
in person to Serecomba."

"No problem, then," said Douglas. "I will go—if I can
convince Detritus it's necessary in order to save his peo-
ple."

"How will we go?" wondered Marbleheart. "By the Feath-
er Pin?"

"Yes, if Mym will take us," said his Master.

"Of course!" she cried. "I want to go. I've never been
to Choin."

"I shall go, also," said Wong. "It is my country. And the
tea leaves suggested there would be danger, as I recall."

Douglas warned him, "Your life will be in danger if your
Emperor's advisers find you!"

"But who could better guide you? Not only is Serecomba
a tremendously vast wasteland but Choin itself is huge
beyond most men's comprehension. You might take years
to cover it all, even by the wonderful Dwarfish Pin."

"Once we are on the desert, we can locate any Wizard by
his aura of power, however faint it may have become," said
Myrn. "Of course, the Feather Pin is the only way to fly."

"Douglas, yourself, and me, then," decided Wong, rising
from his snug nest of furs. "We can drop Serenit off at his
home. Augurian is not really here. The Dwarf Prince ... ?"

"I shall go with you, if you can carry the additional load,
Mistress Myrn," said Bryannote. "You may need a strong
right arm, and remember that I have great experience of
deserted places."

They agreed, and Douglas called out to Detritus's hut.
In a moment the Stones' Chief was standing beside the
column, looking at them irritably yet hopefully.

"We're making good progress. Chief," Douglas told him,
after introducing his companions.

Don Callander

78

"About time!" said the surly Stone. "When can we expect

results?"

"First I must take a trip to find a certain Geomancer. Only
a specialist can unravel your spell," Douglas explained.
"When I come back, the actual disspelling will begin."

Detritus shook his massive head stubbornly.

"No! You have sworn to remain here until we are saved,
Wizard Brightglade. The others may go where they please,
but you must stay!"

"Be reasonable, please," tiny Wong blinked up at the
giant. "Douglas must go, for it is his duty to assist you.
Mistress Mym must go, for she controls our means of swift
travel. The Otter will go with his Master..."

"Even if he hates waterless deserts," muttered Marble-
heart under his breath, "No water! No fish!"

"... and the Dwarf is sworn to protect the party by force
of arms, if necessary. And it is to my country they go, so
I must guide them."

"That leaves Serenit, and he is no longer a Wizard,"
sneered the Chief. "No! I wilt have to have at least one
Wizard to hold as hostage, against your returning. I trust

no one!"

They argued the matter for almost an hour, until at last
Detritus turned to walk away in an angry, stiff-necked huff-
"You will stay. Journeyman," he said finally. "Or at the very
least, another Wizard!"

He disappeared into his hut.

A number of Stones had gathered to hear the discussion
from a distance. They stood about the square, looking rather

downcast.

"What's to do?" asked Marbleheart.

"Well, I'll just have to stay, I guess," said Douglas-
"Mym, my dear, you and Wong, with Bryarmote's help,
can find this Litholt, I'm sure. I'll be fine here. I'll spend
my time trying to trace Flarman."

Mym shook her head firmly.

"No. I have a better way."

She unhooked the Feather Pin from her blouse deep

Geomancer                   79

underneath her warm furs and, reaching over, quickly
pinned it to Douglas's lapel. "I give you the Pin!"

"No, no!" he protested in surprise. "It's your Pin, given
you by Dowager Princess Finesgold! Keep it!

'Too late," said Mym with a laugh. "I've already given
it to you, willingly and completely. Finesgold told me that,
once given, it becomes the sole property of the recipient."

"That's certainly so," said Finesgold's son. "You have
the Pin now, Douglas, like it or not!"

"Suppose I give it back, willingly and completely?" asked
the Journeyman, ducking his chin to look at the golden
feather.

"Won't work," said Bryarmote flatly.

"I'm very sorry you did this," said Douglas, taking Mym's
hand tenderly.

"I'm not," said she, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"It's yours now and, as I'm yours, too, in effect I still have
it Call it my engagement present to my husband-to-be!
That, and the right to finish what you've started."

She taught him the magical phrase that activated the Pin—
"Cumulo nimbus"—and the Journeyman recalled Detritus.

"I think you are being unreasonable, stubborn, stiff
necked, hard jawed, and wrong headed," Douglas said
to him severely. "But we accept your compromise. The
Wizard Manstar will stay in my place. She's not only a
Water Adept, but my betrothed wife- You can be sure I
will redeem her as quickly as possible."

Detritus for the first time looked pleased—and even a
little ashamed of himself. He at once accepted the offer.

"She will be safe and comfortable here," he promised
Douglas. "No harm will come to her that a whole tribe of
Stone Warriors can prevent."

"Nothing to worry about in that regard. She is a Wizard's
Apprentice, you must recall," said Wong, also quite severe-
ly, "and her powers are sufficient to protect her person,
even from arctic storms, avalanches, and sudden eruptions
of lava."

"However," added Bryarmote, glowering darkly, "be

80 Don Callander

warned that if anything untoward befalls our pretty Mym,
you will be held solely responsible. Chief Detritus, not only
by the Wizards, but all my Dwarfs, and I suspect the Fairies,
the Dragons, and all sorts of good Men, also!"

"I must do it, however," said the Chief with downcast
eyes before the Dwarf's smoldering anger. "I am compelled
by circumstances. But hurry back with this Geomancer per-
son, and all will be set aright.'*

"We intend to," said the Journeyman briskly. "Bryarmote,
stand on my left, and take Master Wong by his hand on the
other side. Familiar, stand touching my leg, here. Serenit,
take the Magician by his other hand."

When they were so arranged, Douglas bent and kissed
his bride-to-be on her lips and said good-bye softly. Mym
hugged him reassuringly, hugged the Otter, and then each
other member of the flight in turn.

"Cwnulo nimbusF whispered Douglas, getting it right
the first time.

This strange flying company rose steeply into the snow-
filled darkness and, with a final wave, shot off southward
at a tremendous clip, making the air whistle with their
passage.

"I'll stay with you for a while before I return my image to
Waterand," declared Augurian. "I need to rest and recharge
my Being from the exertions of projecting all this way
against the pressure of Obsydion's spell, twice in one day."

"My poor Magister!" cried Mym, fluffing the furs about
his tall, thin frame. "Rest here as long as you like- I'll be
happy for the company!"

"While we rest," said the Water Adept, drawing a heavy,
deeply embossed leatherbound book from his left sleeve,
"maybe we can use the time to study? You have your own
advancement to Journeyman to think of, my child."

He held the book up for her to read its impressively
long, gold-stamped title: Studies in the Hydrographic Cycle
Including Various Means to Utilize Its Great and Mysteri-
ous Powers without Changing Its Nature to the Detriment
of Its Many Other Benefits.

Geomancer

81

Mym laughed, nodded, and groaned all at the same time,
and Augurian began to lecture.

A worried score of Stone Warriors stood in stony silence,
listening.

Chapter Nine

<$>

Chain

DESPITE his brave face on the matter, Douglas was
unhappy to leave Mym a hostage in Stony Gorge.

"She's capable of countering anything the Stones might
do," Wong pointed out, sensing his distress, "and she can
always leave, if she is seriously threatened. Detritus believes
he has the strength to hold her against her will, but he's
mistaken."

"Very true, I suppose," agreed the Journeyman- "But I
know Myrn. She'll abide by our promise, if she possibly
can. And I feel terrible about her giving up her Feath-
er Pin."

"As she said," Marbleheart said with a sudden laugh,
"when she gave the Pin to you, she kept it in the fami-
ly."

"In that case," said Douglas, in mock asperity, "when we
get back from this adventure, I'll give it to you!"

The Otter squawked in consternation and changed the
subject.

"Here's New Land," he pointed down the long U-shaped
glacial valley. They were just passing over the Face, and
could feel the warm southern wind bounding up at them,
bearing a heavy burden of swirling mist.

"If you need me," offered Serenit, who had borne the
high-speed flight stoically but without much pleasure, "I'd
be happy to tag along."

83

84 Don Callander

"You're needed here," Douglas told him. In addition, he
didn't say aloud, you're still under banishment. To allow
you to cross the New Land borders would sit badly with the
Beings who sentenced you.

"At least let me offer you luncheon," said Serenit, secret-
ly relieved his offer had been refused.

"Not a bad idea, that!" cried the ever-hungry Otter.

Douglas angled down into the flat-bottomed valley and
landed on the veranda before Serenit's lodge, set pleasantly
in a forest of young pines and cedars, overlooking a shallow
but fast-rushing stream that flowed where once the glacier
had piled up hundreds of feet thick.

They were met by Clangeon, much relieved to see them
again, and shortly the capable steward had set a tasty meal
before them: fresh-caught, broiled Sea bass, watercress sal-
ad, spicy crab-cakes, and excellent corn bread, all of which
Marbleheart declared were superb.

While they ate they discussed the best course to follow
next.

"Mym said she doesn't know the top speed of the Pin,"
Douglas said in answer to a question from Bryarmote.
"Beyond a certain speed it becomes difficult to breathe,
she found- But she's never timed her flights very care-
fully."

"We flew from Wizards' High to Stony Gorge in less than
fourteen hours' flying time," observed Wong. He plucked
an ivory-beaded abacus from his right sleeve and began to
calculate furiously.

"The distances between the High and Bee-Wing, which is
the capital of Choin?" he muttered as he worked. "The dis-
tance from Bee-Wing to the edge of the Serecomba Desert?
The time from the High to Serenit's house, here .. . ?"

He drew a chart with his chopstick on the rough plank
tabletop, showing them the way he recommended they go.

"Here we are in New Land, you see? Ten hours at most
to Wizards' High, for that was our time on the way north,
less the time we spent in Dwetmland. Overnight at the High.
Check with Bronze Owl for word from Flarman."

Geomancer                   85

**Good idea!" said Bryarmote. "Owl can send word to
Crystal that my trip has been extended. And I've got some
useful tools, a sword or two and some stout chain-mail
hidden behind the big fireplace at the High. They might
come in handy."

"You have a cache of weapons at the High?" exclaimed
the Journeyman Wizard. "It shouldn't surprise me. Flarman
says there are things about his cottage and workshop caves
even he doesn't know."

Bryarmote looked pleased and proud at the compliment.

"It'll take us at least three full days, I'm afraid, to fly
over Sea from Dukedom to my poor homeland," Wong
estimated. "Closer to four days, unless we can find ways
to add to our speed- We should stop and call upon my good
friend Captain Foggery on arrival."

"If you think we should take the time," Douglas said,
sounding doubtful.

"We must, for Foggery has all my maps and charts
. hidden in his garden. I feared the Bureaucrats would ferret
them out and steal them if I left them at my house. They
arc most accurate and, therefore, most valuable."

"Bureaucrats?" asked Marbleheart, finishing his third
serving of crab cakes.

"I refer to the hereditary professional managers who
actually rule our vast Choin Empire," Wong explained.
"Their posts were once earned by competitive examina-
tions. In those days, Choin had the best, the most efficient,
most humane, most honest of all World's governments.
But several hundred years ago they persuaded the Emper-
or to make their positions hereditary, passing from father
to son."

"With what result?" Marbleheart wanted to know. His
curiosity was only a little smaller than his appetite,

"The downfall of my wretched country! A certain Minis-
ter of Finance might be capable and honest enough, but his
son or his grandson might be a thief—or even worse, a fool!
The best clerks are released to make room for know-nothing
nephews and cousins with neither ability nor training—and

86 Don Callander

no tradition of devoted public service."

"1 see the picture you're painting," said the Sea Otter,
looking shocked. "Why have not the Choinese risen and
changed the system back?"

"A very good question," sighed Wong, pushing back
from the table and folding his napkin neatly into the shape
of a flying bird. "You have to experience the cruel and
overweaning power of a hereditary Bureaucracy to under-
stand. Any man not in some magnate's favor can be tram-
pled into the dust, buried in procedural confusion, or even
hanged on the Imperial gallows as an example to others."

'That's awful!" cried the Otter in dismay. "Will it change,
ever?"

"I devoutly hope so," said the Choinese Magician, but
said no more, for Douglas was signaling that it was time
to depart for Wizard's High.

The cottage beneath the tall, treeless High, when they
slanted down to it just at dusk, looked empty, forlorn, and
lonely. The meadows were sere and yellow, and the trees,
except for the hardy old willows along Crooked Brook,
had already dropped their leaves as tribute to approaching
autumn.

It was worrying that there would be no plump, cheery
Fire Wizard waiting to greet them when they landed at the
kitchen door. There was still no explanation of his strange
disappearance—unless Owl had heard word.

"Nary a peep!" said Bronze Owl. "Augurian did send
Deka the Wraith earlier today to say you were on your
way here. Will you have supper and sleep here tonight,
Douglas? I realize from what the Water Adept said that
you're in a hurry to find this missing Geomancer."

"The rest would be worth the delay," replied a weary
Douglas—he had gotten littte sleep the night before. It
seemed as if a week had passed since he had last closed
his eyes.

At least Blue Teakettle's marvelous kitchen was brightly
a-light and filled with cheer, warmth, welcome, and wafted
cooking odors. Knives and Forks exuberantly chased tin-


Gwmancer                   87

kling silver Spoons three times about the great table before
falling into their proper places on either side of the more
sedate Dinner Plates.

Pots at home on the range clanged their lids together
like cymbals in time to the pure chiming of crystal Goblets
marching in place before Decanter, the somewhat haughty
Master of the Feast.

"Bean soup, weary sirs? Get it while it's hot!" cried
Tureen. Its Ladle performed miracles dipping the thick,
savory liquid into the waiting Soup Bowls without a precious
drop spilled.

"Such a lovely Ladle!" shouted Marbleheart in glee.
"And Blue Teakettle! Your dinners have kept us well fed
and happy in many a strange place, Blue dear, but none so
delightful as your very own kitchen. Pass the potato cakes,
please, and let me have the rest of those sausages, if you
don't want any more for yourselves."

Douglas was lifted from a bleak mood to good cheer
and ate everything on his plate before he excused himself,
yawning-

"We'll leave at dawn, sirs," he said to the Dwarf and the
Magician. The Otter was already fast asleep, curled into a
ball of soft fur on the stone hearth of Bryarmote's famous
Dwarf's Fireplace.

"Owl, I know you'd be happier going with us, but I still
think someone should be here, in case messages arrive and
need to be passed along."

He didn't even hear Owl's assurances he'd stay on duty
at the High. The Journeyman was asleep almost before he
collapsed into the middle of his down comforter.

The Thatchmouse Family peered down from their lofty
nest under the thick thatched roof and hushed their children.

"Let the Wizardling sleep," Mama Mouse whispered gen-
s, dy. "Poor Man-child! He didn't even pull off his boots!"

South of the High and a bit west the next morning, they
soared high over bustling Perthside on Farango Waters.
Douglas pointed out to his friends the house in which he'd

88 Don Callander

been born, and the shipways where his father, also named
Douglas, built strong, fast sailing ships for Thomwood
Duke's growing merchant fleet.

"Five keels laid down, I see!" counted Marbleheart. "Your
father's a busy man!"

Once they'd passed over the southwest point of Dukedom
and were well out to Sea, Douglas increased their airspeed
to just below the point Mym had warned of, where breath
became hard to catch.

Once in the air it was no longer necessary for them to
hold hands in order to fly together. Marbleheart dozed white
Wong and Bryarmote chatted of the deep caverns and very
old mines where the Choinese had once found rich deposits
of jade, white gold, and diamonds.

Douglas kept his mind and eyes on their progress, trust-
ing his old sense of direction once he'd determined their
course toward the distant Choin coast.

Clouds swept by like full-rigged ships, laden with dignity
and purpose. Occasionally the fliers passed between tower-
ing autumn thunderheads glittering with lightning, swollen
with rain and hail falling onto the roiling surface of Sea
far below.

Sea here was very deep and islands were scarce. Where
they did break the surface they were little more than black,
sharp rocks, the summits of submarine mountains, ringed
with creamy white surf. They were good places for all
manner of Seabirds to roost and nest at other times of the
year, but in the last days of summer they were deserted and
lonely.

They met a flock of Frigatebirds gliding on their immense-
ly long, tapered wings, coasting down the wind and calling
saucily to each other as they went.

"Hoy! Hey!" the birds shouted to the fliers. "Ahoy!
There's Douglas of Brightglade, the shipwright's son, the
Pyromancer's pupil. Ahoy!"

"How's the weather ahead," Marbleheart called as they
passed. He knew the Frigates of old. They were World's
best weather forecasters.

Gwmancer                 89

"Rain on the Choin coast, but quite warm and quite light.
Wanner winds ahead, friend Sea Otter! It's still midsummer
in Choin waters. We're going off Highlandorm way to
find winter feeding grounds in Lasting Mists, where the
grunnion will be running soon. We salute you, too. Honored
Magician! Welcome back!"

"Have you ever flown over the Serecomba Desert?" asked
Douglas, circling the flock of Frigates to keep from shooting
on past.

"Never! Too far inland," the grizzled, old flight leader
told him. "Some of them silly Skylarks go that far, and
occasionally you'll meet a Robin Redbreast who has been
there. Their sort don't mind the dry climate, but it's much
too dry for us Seafarers."

"Well, thank you anyway," the Journeyman called, speed-
ing south again.

"I'm not in favor of dry myself," observed Marbleheart,
thoughtfully. "What kinds of beasts like to broil under a
desert sun? I wonder."

"You'll find out shortly," chuckled Bryarmote.

"Lizards, of course," Wong answered the Otter's idle
question. "Snakes, too- Many Dragons live in the endless
empty places at the center of the Serecomba-"

*Tve met a few Dragons myself," said Douglas. "Rather
haughty at first, but good hearted. Fiery tempered when
roused, I found."

"They're sacred to our Empire," said Wong. "Not that
fnyone ever tries to harm or even go near to them. I've
never met one myself, but I'd like to."

"I'm not at all sure I'd want to," said Marbleheart. "What
would you talk of with a Dragon as big as a humpback
whale with wings?"

"History, mostly," Wong told him. "Dragons live a great
long time, being Near Immortals, and remember everything
that ever happened since the Earliest Times and before even
that. I'm told."

Chatting and dozing—even Bryarmote took a long nap
• ffl the afternoon, which was unusual for him—they sped

90 Don Callander

on across the endless plain of Sea. They lunched on ham,
cheese, and spicy sailor's sausage sandwiches on the wing
without stopping, merely slowing down for comfort as they
ate.

Ducking under a dark patch of rain, Douglas had them
open their canteens to replenish their water supply. He and
the Dwarf used the opportunity to take a shower bath,
which refreshed and cooled them. Wong was too modest
to remove any of his clothing in public.

"I'm getting stiff from being so still," complained the
Otter.

"Let me show you some useful exercises," Wong offered.
"My ancestors developed them for living in crowded cities
where physical exercise was difficult."

For an hour or more they all stretched, bent, twisted, and
swung their arms and legs. Passing birds, seeing them so,
laughed aloud and called advice.

"Flap your wings!" they shouted in glee. "Wriggle your
tails'"

By then they had all shed the heavy Northland cloaks
and boots. The Magician, happy to do some little magic
task, reduced the bulky New Land clothing to tiny bits of
wool, fur, and leather and stowed them in his wide left
sleeve.

Nightfall came suddenly, for these were subtropical
waters where the sun plunged over the horizon with
startling speed.

"We need an island where we can stop, have dinner in
comfort, and stretch our legs," the Journeyman said to the
others. "Keep an eye open for a suitable landing place,
won't you?"

Marbleheart, with the sharpest eyes of them all, spotted
an island long before anyone and guided Douglas down
to a worn and rounded mid-Sea peak high above thunder-
ing surf.

They dined on chicken and dumplings, hot from Blue
Teakettle's pot, and drank sparingly of new-brewed, nut
brown Trunkety ale drawn from one of the huge casks

Geomancer                  91

Flarman laid in each year from the cellars of the old Oak
'N' Bucket.

Douglas had intended to continue the trip immediate-
ly, but when his stomach was full, his will to move on
weakened. He proposed they nap on solid ground until
moonrise. A fat, waxing moon would light their way until
a bit before dawn.

They slept. Marbleheart, who'd napped several times
during the night, explored the isolated pinnacle of rock
he'd named Marbleheart Isle, quite immodestly, from top
to bottom, looking for someone to talk to. He met no one,
except thousands of silvery sardines schooling where the
cliff plunged into the deeps, providing them shelter.

The little fish, assured the Otter wasn't hungry, talked
lightheartedly of their life in mid-ocean. They asked the
Otter for news from distant dry land, so he gave them
a quick history lesson covering the last twelve or twenty
years, from the rise of Frigeon Ice King to the death of
Emaldar the Witch in the eruption of the volcano Blueye.

Being isolated in mid-ocean, the sardines had little news
to tell in return. The Otter left them to their schoolwork and
climbed back up the island summit to waken the travelers
with fresh, hot coffee just as the moon rose from Sea.

"You have any idea how much farther we have to go?"
die Dwarf Prince asked after they'd taken off.

Wong was squinting at the moon and measuring angles
from the horizon to certain stars using his fingers and arms
as an astrolabe. He consulted an enormous gold watch he
pulled from beneath his broad, red silk sash, and again
produced the ivory abacus. His tiny fingers flew in cal-
culation-

"I learned celestial navigation from our friend Seacaptain
Foggery. I calculate we've passed the halfway point," he
said at last. "We have close to a thousand miles yet to
go. If my mathematics have not entirely deserted me, we
will fly half a thousand miles this day, unless we stop for
some reason, and will fly most of tomorrow, again, before
we reach the Choin coast."

92 Don Callander

"Well, I suppose it's faster than one of Thomwood's
ships," said Douglas, "but it's not half so interesting."

He found that while he could easily maintain the speed
of the first day, it was uncomfortable for him and his
passengers, especially the Otter, who tended to suffer most
from drying out in the wind. Douglas reduced his speed by
a third and flew much lower, where the air was moister and
warmer. There they encountered occasional rainsqualls to
wet them down—much to the Otter's relief.

During the afternoon Douglas conducted class for his
Familiar. Since returning from Old Kingdom in midsum-
mer, he had little time to instruct the Otter in his duties
and the lore he needed to serve a Wizard.

The Choinese Magician, who'd never adopted a Familiar
for some reason, listened with great interest, occasionally
contributing a comment or an anecdote.

Bryarmote, who had picked up a smattering of Magic
here and there in his long life, also commented and demon-
strated—his lore concerned mostly weapons and fighting or
delving and locating precious metals or water underground.

Later everyone took turns napping, even Douglas, now
completely at ease with this novel means of travel.

Another night at Sea. This time they dined and napped on
a low-tying coral atoll, a ring of sandy islets barely above
the waves, crowned by groves of tall, graceful coconut
palms loaded with fruit.

Remembering the Great Sea Tortoise Oval, Douglas
showed them how to crack the tough, fibrous nuts with
one of the Dwarf's short swords. They shared the sweet
meat and drank the refreshing, wholesome milk for their
supper and again for breakfast.

They all took a morning swim, enjoying the rainbow-
colored fish swarming in the glass-clear shallows. The Otter
offered to catch a few for the frying pan, but had to agree
with the others that the fish were too pretty to eat—espe-
cially as the Otter wasn't sure which were safe and which
might be poisonous.

Geomancer                   93

"Out of my element, really," he explained, and settled
for a double armful of big, juicy clams that he discovered
buried in the coral sand at the tow water mark.

Their third night approached with storm clouds and winds
that buffeted them about the sky—to Marbleheart's delight
and the Dwarf's dismay. Just before full dark they saw a
scattering of lights ahead and below.

"Land!" cried Douglas, glad the over-Sea portion of their
flight was over.

"Not just lantern lights, either," observed Wong. "It's as
if they built bonfires to greet us ... but that's not pos-
sible, is it?"

"No, not for us," said Marbleheart grimly. "Those are
buildings a-buming!"

Douglas circled warily over the great fires, keeping just
within the lower fringe of the storm clouds.

"Can you make out what's going on?" he asked the
sharp-eyed Otter.

"Yes and no," was Marbleheart's reply. "A num-
ber of houses burning dreadfully, I can see, and occa-
sionally crowds of men rushing about, shouting and
waving sticks and torches. You can just hear them
from here."

"So I can," said Wong. "But I can't make out their words.
I'm sure they are shouting in Choinese."

"Well, they would shout in Choinese here, wouldn't
they?" asked the Dwarf. "Unless we've gone far astray.
Very far astray!"

Wong asked Douglas to fly lower while he peered
through a brass spyglass he drew from his right sleeve.
They dropped with the falling rain beneath the scud of low
clouds.

"Ha!" Wong exclaimed at last. "A palace fortress, there!
I know where we are, now. My home is a bit farther east,
away from the coast a few miles. Go east until you see a
large seaport city on an almost landlocked bay. Then I'll
direct you to Captain Foggery's house."

The Journeyman turned east along the coast.

94 Don Callander

"What a splendid surprise!" exclaimed the ancient
Seacaptain when they dropped into his rain-washed garden
and knocked at his door. "A wonderful relief, also! I was
afraid you might be the Constables."

All was quiet in this neighborhood—as a graveyard at
midnight, Marbleheart thought, remembering the silent bar-
rows of Last Battlefield with a shudder. Wong had guided
them swiftly and unerringly to the retired Westongue sail-
or's rambling wood-and-paper house not far from the port
city of Choin Harbor.

"Has the Governor's Constabulary given you trouble?"
asked Wong, worriedly. "What of the fires and men running
about in the night, over to the west?"

"I know something about it," admitted Foggery, ushering
them through a sliding door into his large, pleasant parlor,
where they left their shoes by the door. "Perhaps the Gov-
ernor's policemen have forgotten me in the confusion of
the riots. Come in! I'll tell you all I can."

When they were seated on cushions and each had been
brought a bowl of hot water, soap, and towels, followed by
tea laced with mint, the old Sea Captain explained.

"The old Emperor is near death."

"Ah!" sighed Wong. "It is a mixture of good news and
bad, then. He has been failing for some time."

"Yes. Of natural causes, we believe. He is quite elderly,
as you know."

"But from what our friend Wong has told us," said
Douglas, "the Emperor is merely a figurehead, not a power-
ful leader at all."

"So the Bureaucrats always believed," said Foggery. "Not
true! The people of Choin insist that power flows from the
Emperor. The succession, they are crying, must be directly
from him. Unfortunately, there are a dozen or more men
who claim direct descent!"

"And the Bureaucrats are divided, each wishing to name
his own candidate, of course?" asked Wong softly.

Geomancer                  95

"Yes, one who each thinks he can control," Foggery
declared flatly. 'That's bad enough! These days a num-
ber of our Bureaucrats have the military and police pow-
er to pull it off. The Ennobled Bureaucrats are actually
fighting among themselves! That's what the fires are. Fac-
tion against faction, and the poor commoners are caught in
the middle."

Wong rolled his eyes in horror and the others shook their
heads in sympathy.

"Our own Governor was assassinated just a week past
when he attempted to march his Guards and Constables to
Bee-Wing. He was the Emperor's Great Grand Nephew,
and had a valid claim to the Dragon Throne. There was
bloody slaughter, I hear. A grandson of the Governor's
wanted his Constable thugs for himself, to press his own
claim. The grandson's force was victorious . . . but he him-
self was killed by one of his own officers, I hear!"

Douglas threw up his hands in dismay. "Is it that bad?
Is there nobody to bring order to this bloody mess?"

"I don't know!" exclaimed Foggery. "I've been trying
since you departed, Master Wong, to organize some sort of
communication with my friends about the area. One friend,
named Fong Wei—you know him?—was taken and thrown
into prison by the Minister of Education. He cleverly trained
a rice rat to carry messages out to us. That's how we heard
that much. Fong Wei has since simply disappeared! I've
sent my young men to find other Scholars and Sages, but
they have all gone into hiding, I fear."

"Poor Fong!" said Wong, shaking his head slowly. "Can
he be helped, do you think?"

"Nobody knows where he is," Foggery told him.

The retired Westonguer mentioned a dozen other names,
but in most cases he admitted he had no news. Most appeared
to be fugitives, running from this or that faction of Minister
or Nobleman, hiding in farmer's hovels or in forests or
open fields disguised as peasants, waiting for the storm to
blow over.

96 Don Callander

"Eventually the Bureaucrats will sort it out, of course,"
said Wong. "They always have in the past, at the cost of
much blood and gold."

"But if I recall," protested Foggery, "was it not Wong
Tscha San, a Magician, Scholar, and Sage, who once said
that in such a time the small fanners, the town merchants,
and the villagers must organize to throw the Bureaucrats out
and reinstate the Ancient and Honorable Ways—a Choin
where a man's life had value and government meant justice,
harmony, protection from criminals, and a fair share of the
wealth each labored to produce."

Wong acknowledged the words as his own.

"And it was ever my worst fear that when a Time of Con-
fusion came, we would be caught without a single leader all
of us could agree to follow. Is it not now so, Seacaptain?
Who could—who would lead the disenfranchised? Who will
they follow?"

"You, for one," declared the Seacaptain, thrusting out a
blunt forefinger at the Magician. "They will rally to Wong
Tscha San."

"I can't do that. It wouldn't be good for the country at
all," said Wong, sadly shaking his head. "White Wizards
and Good Magicians are sternly and wisely warned against
accepting or imposing political leadership."

"Yes, Flarman Flowerstalk says mat good Wizards make
the worst kings," Douglas agreed. "His most recent example
was Frigeon, the Ice King, who was a Master Aeromancer."

"Wisdom from the Fire Master," agreed Wong, nodding.
"Well. . ."

They heard a thundering like a great herd of cattle being
driven past Foggery' s front gate. Men and boys—even wom-
en—cried out to each other, clashed rice hooks, butchering
knives, and scythes, filling the rainy darkness with roars of
violence and fear-

Bryarmote hitched his Elvensword closer to hand and
jumped up, while Douglas prepared a useful spell or two,
just in case. The fur on Marbleheart's back stood on end
and he bared his sharp teeth in a silent snarl.

Geomancer                  97

But the crowd passed on and their tumult faded into
the night.

"No telling what's going on out there," sighed Foggery.

"Someone who can lead? Someone everyone respects?"
asked Wong. He looked piercingly at Foggery for a long
moment.

"I am a foreigner myself," reminded the retired Captain.
"Nobody would follow me."

"Perhaps not. But perhaps they would! Absolutely no
one else is remotely qualified that I can think of," said the
Magician sharply. "The prohibition of magickers against
accepting crowns is a good one . . ."

"Unfortunately, it's a rule followed only by White Wiz-
ards and such," said Douglas, recalling his history lessons
on the summertime lawn of the High, taught by Bronze
Owl. "A teacher I know said once. 'The only thing nec-
essary for evil to triumph is for good men to remain idle.'
If we don't act soon, Wong, a wicked, selfish, unscrupu-
lous trickster might put himself forth—and be success-
ful!"

"True!" agreed the Choinese.

"We must help," Douglas declared.

"You, Douglas, have the important matter of the en-
chanted Stones to concern you, not to mention your Exami-
nation for Mastery, and your wedding," objected Wong.

"What's more important?" demanded the Journeyman
Pyromancer, looking about at his friends. "The Examina-
tion can be put off, as can the Wedding. Even the Stones'
disenchantment! Here, thousands of innocent people could
die! I don't want that on my conscience, nor would Mym.
We must do what we can to help Choin!"

"No, no!" exclaimed Wong. "Consider the consequences,
young Wizard, should you fail to break the Stones' spelling
in a short time."

"Chief Detritus may try to harm Mym," Marbleheart
insisted: "He wouldn't be able to do it, of course. Mym
is already too powerful, if just an Apprentice. And she's
sharp as a Sea Nettle! She'd easily save herself, if the

98 Don Callander

Stones should break their promise."

"But then, what?" asked Wong. "What would you expect
Detritus and his Stone Warriors to do when their patience
runs out? Sit at home and sulk?"

"Hardly," retorted Marbleheart. "I listened to them in
council. To Detritus. He's aggressive and ambitious. He'd
lead them out to do battle for their cause, sometime, some-
where."

"Exactly my reading of the Man and his people," agreed
the Dwarf, sliding his short sword in and out of its scabbard.
"They're warriors, after all!"

"And who would they attack?" asked Douglas.

"New Land!" cried the Dwarf instantly. "Destroy every-
thing Serenit has accomplished, perhaps shock him back
to his old wickedness in his disappointment and frustra-
tion."

"Our friends agree with me," said Wong to Douglas.
"All sorts of bad things would follow. How would Tet, his
Highlandormers, and their War Dogs stand against Stone
Warriors in pitched battle? Or Thomwood's Dukedom, for
that matter, especially without you or Flannan to advise
them?"

"We're stuck in a dilemma, then," Douglas sighed.
"What's to do?"

Wong lifted his hands again, this time in supplication.

"The Stones' problem should be simple, compared to
quelling the unrest in all of Choin when the Emperor, poor
old man, dies- I really believe we must pursue our goal in
the Serecomba—the sooner the better. Find the Geomancer!
Then we all can turn our full attention to Choin and the
empty Dragon Throne."

Foggery was confused by their talk of Stones until
Douglas told him the story from the beginning. When he
was done, the Captain agreed with Wong.

"Get this Geo-whatever-it-is and take care of the enchant-
ment first. We Choinese must fight our own battles, or
they'll never be won. Oh, you Wizards can help, but some-
one here has to take the helm and set our course."

Geomancer                   99

He stood and paced about the sparsely furnished sitting
room, staring blindly at his collection of exquisite paint-
ings of flowers, mountain landscapes, and bright-plumaged
birds, and delicate jade sculptures in tiny, softly lighted wall
niches.

He turned at last to Wong and said, "Well! You must help
Master Douglas. In the meanwhile, I'll gather the core of an
opposition party and get them to agree on a single candidate
for Emperor—and fight for him, if need be."

"Good, my old friend! 1 will return to help my country
as soon as we have the Stones disspelled, Douglas examined
and confirmed in Mastery, and Mym and he married. No
later than the first the new year, say?"

"It'll have to do. Take some time for us few to organize
even a small party of trusty men," said Foggery, and he
drew himself up, looking decades younger than he had
when he'd answered his door and admitted them to his
house.

"I... guess I just needed someone to say it. This is my
beloved adopted country, even though I still love Dukedom
and Westongue of my youth. It's time I did something to
repay Choin's hospitality and respect."

Wong applauded and shed tears of gratitude. The rest
crowded around and vowed their assistance and advice,
at least.

"You may use my name and Flarman's, too," said
Douglas, quietly. "With Wong Tscha San's name, that
might be enough to rally your party and give them the
needed confidence."

Wong signaled a change of subject by asking Foggery to
return his maps and charts of the Empire. They would plan
the next phase of their search for the Geomancer.

Chapter Ten




Serecomha Search

"YOUR boy'll never come back for you, now he's
escaped me," sneered Chief Detritus, pushing his enormous,
craggy, stern face close to the Apprentice's as she sat on her
pile of furs atop the Column.

"He will. Why do you doubt it? It's my word and his
against yours. Chief of Stones. Time will tell!"

"It's your life, really," snorted the Stone, stepping back
and looking off down the Gorge, where a fifty-foot-high
geyser was roaring into the frosty air in billowing,
bellowing clouds of steam. "If you fail us ... If Wiz-
ard Douglas fails me, I am finished as Chief. That
would be intolerable! The shame! To be toppled just
when I have a chance to free my tribesmen from this
Obsydion's spell! To have to slink along behind some
other Chief who will undoubtedly build on my foun-
dation!"

"Nonsense!" snapped Mym angrily. "If something goes
wrong, how can anyone blame you? You're what my moth-
er calls a worry-wart, always looking on the dark side. Give
my Douglas a chance! He can hardly have reached Choin
yet! I guarantee he'll be back, and with your Geomancer,
too, or some other way to disspell your people."

The giant stormed about the cobbled square, kicking
three feet of soft, new snow high in the air and glowering
at his worried villagers and at his hostage. The more he
stomped, the angrier he got.

ioi

102 Don Callander

"I'll tell you this, missy," he shouted, "if your poor ex-
cuse for a Fire Wizard isn't back very soon, I'll teach him
to throw us Stones over. I'll see to it he never finds you,
his beloved, his betrothed! I may not be able to destroy you,
Mym Waterspiller, but I know places to hide you away.
forever and a day'"

He plowed through the deep snowbanks at the side of
the square and slammed into his hut.

His words sent a chill down Mym's back, more from
the tone he used—almost madness, she thought—than his
words. She refused to let it show.

"Don't you dare test me. Stone Man!" she called after
him, not shrilly but with calm authority. "I am Water Pow-
ered, an Adept, an Aquamancer! Pupil of Augurian of
Waterand' In a contest between us, water wears away stone
every time. You can be eroded, ground to pebbles, and split
to splinters and shards! Beware of water. Detritus!"

And shame on me for such an outburst, she thought
to herself. Lifting the book Augurian had sent for her
to study, she drew several deep breaths and calmly re-
sumed her reading where the Chief had interrupted with his
tirade.

"Patience, Water Adept," came Augurian's voice from
beside her. "His type of stone doesn't always stand up well
under pressure."

"Magister!" exclaimed the Apprentice. "He got me to
boil over a bit, as you heard."

"Understandable," said Augurian. wavering at her elbow.
"He's a hard man; I saw that when I first met him."

"Have you any word from Choin?"

"Not yet. Owl sent word by Deka that the travelers
came to Wizards' High three nights back and left the next
morning. They should be somewhere in Choin by tonight
or tomorrow. I've tried to follow them in the Crystal Pool,
but there's a great deal of interference in the ether between
us. Even Deka couldn't find her way across Sea in that
direction."

"Oh, dear!" cried the girl.

Geomancer                  103

^
t',

"It happens now and then, of course. Have some patience,
foster daughter! I'll keep trying and you'll be the first to
know what I see and hear."

"I'm sorry, Magister! I know you'll do everything you
can. The question here is, what shall I do if I have to run? I
can't break through the shielding that Obsydion put around
his spell. All I can do is head for home or for the High."

"If you can, you should stay close to Detritus and his
warriors. In his anger, Detritus may attack the nearest Men,
and that would be ..."

"Of course, Serenit and his New Land settlers. Should
we warn them of their danger?"

"It doesn't exist yet, but if it comes, Mym, it must be
you who warns them. Tell them to take ship and seek deep
waters. They are a strong and self-sufficient group, but I
don't think even they could stand long against these Stone
Warriors in a fight."

"And then what?"

"Send for me. I'll see what we can do together to render
them less harmful, despite Obsydion's magic. If I were to
withdraw the warm south winds, for example ... ?"

"I think I see, Magister. If we can't affect them directly
with out magic, we may be able to affect their actions
indirectly. Maybe slow their advance?"

"Think about how you could do it. Apprentice. That's
what I had in mind," her Master said with a broad smile
of confidence.

Mym asked for word of the elder Pyromancer but
Augurian had heard nothing new. They talked for a long
while about her Apprentice's lessons and as the arctic dusk
fell, Augurian's image departed, promising to see her the
next day, if his work permitted.

Mym adjusted the fire Douglas had left for her warmth
and light, ate a lonely supper, and read until she felt sleepy
enough to pull the furs about her and settle down to slum-
ber. At least it had stopped snowing and blowing.

Dam it, Douglas! Here 1 am close to freezing my . ..
and there you are where it's still summertime, hot and

104 Don Caltander

nice! Hurry back, not because I'm cold, but because I need
you beside me, no matter what powers and magicks I leam
to wield.

"The snow and ice of Stone Valley seem almost inviting
just now," Douglas said to me Otter.

They were standing on a barren bluff overlooking an end-
less sea of drifted sand and broken stone ridges, the northern
edge of the Serecomba. Behind them, the dry rolling hills
were scantily clad in brittle grey-green shrubbery and cactus
armed with wicked barbs.

Nothing, as far as the eye could see. A perfectly flat,
treeless, plantless, grassless expanse all the way to the
southern horizon. The sky had a harsh coppery hue. A
steady, hot wind blew constantly, dry as sticks, hurling
sharp bits of sand to irritate their faces and eyes.

The harsh sun seemed motionless, unrelenting, a giant
kiln firing the landscape like a clay pot.

"Even with water a man, let alone an Otter, wouldn't last
two days out there," Marbleheart said with utter distaste.
"Ugh! Give me even a brackish stagnant swamp, rather
than this."

"But there is a Wizard out there, I can tell," Douglas
said. He took a sip from his canteen and stopped himself
before he took a second. The water was blood warm and
left a foul, metallic taste in his mouth, but the last source
of water was a muddy pool ten miles behind them.

Nearer, Bryannote was enlarging a shallow cave for an
underground camp. They could hear his tough Elvensword
cleaving the stone—and his thunderous Dwarf curses.

Even with his best Aquamancer-taught magic, Douglas
knew the water from the pool would still taste of green
slime and bitter salts. He planned to transport water from
the well at the High that evening.

"I feel it, too," agreed the Otter, his nose raised to the hot
wind, his eyes slitted against the glare. "There definitely is
a Wizard out there. Fairly strong, don't you think?"

Geomancer                 105

"But still a long way off," Douglas answered with a
frown. "Something else, too. Do you catch it?"

"Yes, but I don't know what it can be."

"You've never met a dragon," his Master said. "That's
dragon smell—maybe many dragons—you feel, young
Otter! Remember it!"

"Desert scorch and dragon scent!" muttered Marbleheart,
trying to spit but failing entirely. "Give me a sip of your
water, Douglas, and tell me what we're going to do next."

While the animal carefully wet his mouth and tongue,
Douglas said, "We'll fly out over the desert. It'll be cooler
a mile or so up. Maybe several miles. Maybe five miles!"

"And from up that high maybe we can see how wide this
desert is," agreed Marbleheart, handing the canteen back.
"But will we be able to see a Wizard from that height?"

"I'm hoping that he isn't just sitting in the middle of the
desert right on the sand. He must have some sort of shelter.
Maybe even water. He must have a source of water."

"Maybe he imports it, as you're going to do. Soon, I
hope! Before we're fairly broiled."

"Actually, that's one of the things I'll be looking for—
magic used to import water, food, maybe clothing. We
don't actually have to see the Wizard. Just his habitat and
his aura."

"Habitat?" repeated the Familiar as they started back for
the cave. "I guess I see what that means. Say! Why just
bring water to drink? Why not send out for a block of ice
from Serenit's glacier. He has plenty to spare."

"Now that, I say, is a splendid idea, old Familiar!" laughed
Douglas, bending to pound his furry friend on the shoulder.
"Inspired!"

"Only a Fire Wizard could find something to smite about
in this place," grumbled Bryannote as they approached.
"What's up?"

"We will be—tomorrow morning," Marbleheart told him.
"But before that, Douglas is going to bring some ice from
New Land and some water from the Old Fairy Well at
Wizards' High, and we're having sherbet for supper."

106 Don Callander

'The heat is getting to him, poor rodent,'* Wbng, who
was beginning to learn to tease, said gently. "I must admit
that, without my chrysanthemum parasol and a fresh breeze
from my lotus-flower fan, we'd be crazed, also. Whew!"

He was sitting in the deepest shade of a rock overhang
in one of the last folds of the desert-edge hills, a gaily
hand-painted silk parasol over his head, even so, and a
flowered fan stirring the air near his left ear.

"He was good enough to let it blow on me while I toiled
under the ground," said the Dwarf. "His 'whew' should
be 'phew' for I stink like a Troll after only two hours'
digging."

"Douglas's going to bring in some water, so we all can
bathe," repeated Marbleheart. "Come, show us this hole
you've bored."

The Dwarf Prince proudly led them down into comfort-
able quarters cut into a sandstone outcrop. He'd done it all
with his Elvensword and a handy stone-cutting spell he'd
learned, ages back, from a younger Flarman FIowerstalk.

"Originally intended to let you carve your way into
fortresses and such," Bryarmote explained, "but just as
good for making a tunnel in rocky ground."

Twenty feet beneath the desert, the air in the new-carved
cavern was filled with fine rock dust but cooler by many
degrees than the air outside—quite comfortable, indeed.

To make it even more so, the Dwarf had hewed a flat-
floored living space with a raised fire platform under a
narrow chimney, already drawing up a thin trail of smoke
from a blaze on the hearth.

"I'm rather surprised it draws," said Douglas, craning
his neck to look up the chimney. "I would expect a strong
downdraft."

"Secret of the trade," the Dwarf responded with a grin.
"When you have only a few magic tricks, you tend to keep
them to yourself. My chimneys always draw well, as you
should know."

He had just finished chopping three wide niches in the
chamber walls, each serving as bedroom for himself, Wong,

Geomancer                 107

and Douglas. The Otter preferred to sleep near the hearth.

Douglas and Marbleheart admired his workmanship—the
smooth, vertical walls, the gently rounded corner, and even
the packed rock dust that formed the level floor.

Now, at the Fire Wizard's request, the Dwarf drew his
sword again and, with a dozen well-placed, loud-clanging
swings, excavated a large, square pit in the floor and a
smaller, round one beside it, connecting them at the bottom
with a channel.

Douglas sat on the cool floor and wove his best teleporting
spell. The square pit immediately filled with a huge block of
crystal-clear glacier ice, streaming cold vapors out across
the cavem floor. The ice block was straight from the Face
of Eternal Ice.

A moment later in a rush and a splash, several hundred
gallons of sweet-smelling well water filled the round cistern
and seeped into the space around the block of ice in the
square one.

"Cool, clear water!" crooned the delighted Otter, and
they each gulped a cup or two at once. "There will be plenty
to drink and bathe and cook in for the rest of our stay."

"And how long will that stay be, I wonder, Sir Wizard?"
asked Wong.

He spread his maps on a rock table while Douglas told
mem his plan to sweep the desert methodically in an attempt
to locate the Geomancer's hideaway from the air.

"He is there, I know," said Wong. "I feel a strong Wiz-
ardly presence here."

"Do you feel the Dragons, too?" wondered Marbleheart.

"Is that what it is? Rather daunting, I must say. So that's
what a Dragon feels like! Well, well! Maybe I'll meet one
or two yet, Otter."

"I'll forgo that pleasure, if there's a choice- Anything that
big and powerful should be avoided, I say!"

"Oh, but you've met whales, I know," reminded Douglas,
beginning to set out supper near the ice pit, where the
air was nice and cool. "And they're quite huge and very
powerful."

108 Don Callander

"Not the same thing," the Oner insisted. "Why, whales
are mammals, just like you and me! Dragons are . . . rep-
tiles, aren't they? I steer clear of reptiles, when at all
possible."

When the sun dropped behind the distant sand dunes, the
air outside cooled rapidly, but the cavern retained its even
temperature overnight. By dawn, when Marbleheart arose to
check above ground, the glacier ice in the pit showed little
sign of having melted. He took a long drink and splashed
his face and feet generously before he went up to see what
a desert morning would be like.

He was prepared to hate it, as he had the white-hot
noontime and endless afternoon. To his surprise it was
delightfully cool, dry, and still. The air was as clear as
a bell and Otter eyes could see almost forever. But there
wasn't much to see.

Did he catch a tiny bit of movement out over the flat
floor of sand? A crow flying along? Hardly! Crows might
be disrespectful and raucous, but they had more sense than
to cross a baking wasteland like this,

A vulture? Bronze Owl had lectured him about the fami-
lies of birds, and he recalled the metal bird's distasteful
description of the habits of such necessary scavengers.

The speck disappeared before he could decide. His imagi-
nation told him it might have been a Dragon.

Chapter Eleven

^

Mountains in the Desert

THE Sea Otter laughed aloud when he considered how
strange they must look, if there had been anyone or anything
to see them.

He flew close beneath the Journeyman, keeping in the
young man's shade as much as possible. The sun, even this
high over the ground, burned down on them with steady
ferocity.

Above him, Douglas glided along at a medium speed, his
black-and-orange Wizard's gown hitched up to his knees to
keep the skirts out of the way. His bare legs were beginning
to get sunburned, Marbleheart noted.

He warned Douglas of the potential pain and trouble.
For protection Douglas floated his cloak like an awning
over them both.

A most strange sight, indeed, Marbleheart thought with
a chuckle.

As far as his eyes could see they were the only mov-
ing objects in the desert landscape. No clouds scudded
across the intense blue firmament. No birds—or dragons—
flew over the desert floor. If there were small beings such
as mice or insects living in or under the baking sand,
Marbleheart couldn't see them from this height.

"Something as big as a Wizard, however," he remarked
to Douglas, "I would see easily, even from this far up.
Unless, like us, Litholt has gone to ground."

109

110 Don Callander

"It's something I've already thought about," conceded
the Journeyman. "We may have to rely on our Wizard
sense alone, if it comes to that. But right now I want to
see if there is a castle or a fort, a hut or even a dugout
cave somewhere out here, where Litholt might be living."

The "sense" of Wizardness was still there, but so scattered
they couldn't home in on it. As the morning progressed,
Douglas found it grew slowly stronger the further southwest
they flew.

"Lithold came here for much the same reason Flarman
retreated to Valley long ago, and Augurian fled to an island
in Warm Seas," mused the Otter.

"Yes," Douglas lectured with a nod. "Cribblon also fled
after Last Battle, but to the far west of Old Kay. And
actually, Frigeon, too, settled as far as he could get from
Old Kingdom when he built his Ice Palace. They all wished
to escape the horror and fear of the terrible conflict."

"Then Lithold may not have hidden completely. Even
Cribblon practiced a little magic for the benefit of his
neighbors. And certainly Flarman and Augurian did, too.
I mean, even if this Geomancer was horrified, terrorized,
demented perhaps, stripped of most of his magic pow-
ers, it doesn't mean he'd completely disappear, forever
and ever."

"According to Augurian," said Douglas, "Litholt fled
some years before Last Battle. Maybe it was just too much
for him, even that early- That it took marvelous, stupendous,
reckless courage to even think of facing the Darkness, I can
believe. You know what it was like facing the Barrow
Wights, even three centuries later!"

Despite the heat, Marbleheart felt a chill, as he always did
when he remembered his captivity under the burial mound
beside Bloody Brook. With that kind of mindless fear, a
man—or even an Otter—might do almost anything; none
of it remotely sensible.

They flew on and on.

"High noon," observed the Journeyman, squinting at the
sun. "With the sun directly overhead, we can't see anything

Geomancer                   11

at all. No shadows. What do you think we should do?"

Marbleheart shook his head. His eyes were burning from
hours of staring down at glaringly white sand and an occa-
sional bed of rock polished so highly by sand-bearing winds
they reflected the sun's rays like mirrors.

And the mirages! The first time he had cried out in
surprise and pure delight. You guys were wrong! There's
a lake here in the middle of the desert!

But as they flew on, the lake receded and receded before
them, until he had to admit that it was a trick of sun and
shimmering heat. Most discouraging!

"Well, we have only three choices, as I see it," he
answered at last. "Go back and cool off in Bryarmote's
cave, or fly on and take a chance we'll miss something
in the glare, or land and try to find a spot to rest until
the sun moves down the sky enough to cast decent
shadows."

"Going back is tempting, but I don't think we'll accom-
plish much if we do that every noontime. As Wong says,
we could take years scouring the Serecomba like this, day
by day."

They flew on for several minutes in silence.

"The least sensible thing to do is land and rest, have some
lunch, maybe take a nap," thought Marbleheart aloud.

"Maybe the least sensible thing to do is the best thing
to do, after all," Douglas responded. 'To just go on is no
good. Even a good-sized castle we might miss in this fierce
light. Maybe if we look at the desert from ground level for
a while ..."

"Whatever you say," sighed the Otter, and Douglas let
them down easily, swooping gracefully to the sand.

On the ground he pitched his handkerchief as a canopy
for shade over them and brought cold water from the cave
to drink and wash their hot faces. Once as comfortable as
they could expect to be, they ate a light garden salad and
some ice cream with strawberry sauce.

Under their canopy the temperature proved surprisingly
comfortable. To step out of its shade, however, was to

112 Don Callander

be pounded mercilessly by the sun's near-vertical rays.
Douglas experimented with disks of blue-tinted glass and
discovered that wearing them over their eyes as spectacles
was a help in the glare, greatly improving their ability to
see clearly and easing the strain on their eyes, also.

He fashioned a pair for the Otter and another for himself.
Marbleheart exclaimed over them when they again lifted off
to continue their search.

By now the sun had glided to an angle at which they
could see low sand dunes and ripples, even the infrequent
outcrops of sharp stone, by noting their shadows, not the
stone or the dune itself.

"An hour more, then we head back," decided the Jour-
neyman Wizard in late afternoon. "We could stay out
here overnight, but I yearn greatly for the comfort of
Bryannote's cave and the taste and feel of the glacial ice
water."

"Not nearly so much as I do," groaned Marbleheart
hoarsely. "I am, after all, a water animal. I've an idea.
To find where we left off when we come back tomorrow
morning, we must mark the desert floor somehow. No use
going over sand we've already looked at when we start out
again."

"That's why I keep you as my Familiar," Douglas said.
"You occasionally come up with a really bright idea."

They discussed how to mark a desert that was a million
square miles of total sameness, and in the end used the
most abundant material they had—sand. Skimming over
the surface, Douglas created a gentle but insistent wind
that swept the loose grains before it into a circular berm
several feet high. He repeated the process four more times,
linking me great circles together.

"There!" Douglas said as he finished. "We can see that
from five miles up and fifty miles away, I should think."

With that, they mounted as high as they easily could,
where the air was thin and quite cold—it felt good—and
at top speed dashed back the way they had come.

Geomancer                   13

The Magician and the Dwarf had spent the day in the
cool of the cave, amusing themselves with alternate games
of chess and gin rummy.

Twice more the young Wizard and his Familiar left
before dawn, located their circular end-marks, and flew
straight on, fairly slowly so as not to miss anything.

On the third morning it took them as long to reach the
marks of the night before as it would to search.

They had yet to see a single sign of life, present or past,
upon the desert floor. Yet the feeling of Wizardly presence
was growing stronger each day. The Dragon smell seemed
to fade away, however.

Now the far side of the desolation became visible—a
range of blue mountains at the desert's far edge, serrate
and tumbled against the horizon. In the clear air the range
seemed only an hour's flight away, but all the third day
they flew on without seeming to get closer.

"Are you sure the mountains are not an illusion, too? A
"super-size mirage?" the Otter asked, wearily.

"I'm sure they're not," said Douglas, who really wasn't
all that sure, in fact.

"What next, once we reach the mountains?" asked the
Otter at the end of that third day.

"I wonder? ... I mean, Augurian's information was that
the Geomancer was hiding *in the midst of the great desert
of Serecomba.' What if what we've crossed so far is only
half the desert?"

"Ye Gods!" cried Marbleheart. "What are you suggest-
ing, Wizard?"

"That these mountains are in the middle of the desert,
not at its far side."

"I see, I think. You're saying that this Geomancer lives
not on the sands but in the mountains, which are in the
middle of me sand? Wow'"

"It makes sense, if you think of it," Douglas mused, "that
-t a Wizard who derives power from earth, rock, and stone
.\ would prefer to settle in mountains rather than in a place

114 Don Callander

where his resources are pretty scarce."

"I see! Yes, I think you're making sense. Which means
either we are both crazed by the sun, or you've hit on the
answer."

"A possible answer, anyway," said Douglas cautiously.
"Worth checking out, at least."

"Not before tomorrow," his Familiar said quickly. "We
can shoot over there at top speed in the cool of dawn and
start fresh."

Douglas agreed, turning toward home. They flew in wea-
ried silence for more than an hour before Douglas said,
"What are you thinking?"

"About a drink of water, a cold bath, and supper, of
course. Well, and that if I had a choice between mountains
and desert, I'd live in mountains, too."

'Take us with you, then," said Wong when they had
explained their new plan. "We're doing nothing useful here.
We weary of waiting."

"I'm five rubbers ahead at gin," Bryannote said to tease
the older man.

"And I've cornered your King so often he must be con-
sidering abdication," shot back the Choinese gentleman.
The two were getting on just fine, it seemed, despite the
heat and boredom.

"No reason why not." agreed Douglas, much to their
relief. "It'll mean establishing another camp."

"So be it," cried the Dwarf. "Something constructive to
do, at any rate."

"And I may be able to help you search, if I can climb
some of the peaks and look around. I have certain powers
and spells that might help, under those circumstances,"
Wong added.

"I almost hate to leave our cozy cave, and our block of
ice is not yet melted away," complained the Otter, half-
seriously. "But it'd be pleasant to have two more creatures
to talk to. Douglas and I are reduced to six or seven sen-
tences a day, as it is."

Geomancer                  115

The change in venue proved heartening to them all,
weary as the searchers and the waiters alike had become.
The most welcome thing they discovered when they arrived
at the edge of the mountain range was that there were
numerous springs of fresh, sweet-tasting water, and grass
and even trees along deep-cut water courses.

Bryannote picked a campsite halfway up a mountain
not so tall as many others, but graced with springs and
their runnels, green grass, and brush to break the visual
monotony-

A natural cave, with few alterations, served as their
new headquarters. While daytime was as hot as ever, the
elevation made the nights quite cold. In the morning, their
stream-fed pool had a delicate edging of ice crystals.

Marbleheart was enchanted with the tiny waterway. He
could swim once more, roll and slide over worn, moss-
slippery rocks, dive and splash, and roll to his heart's
content.

Here also there were signs of animal life. That first
evening Douglas took his old leather case from his right
sleeve and, while the others watched with interest, removed
two crystal vials, mixed very carefully a drop of clear green
liquid from one and a pinch of white powder from the
other, forming a tiny green-and-white bead, which he then
dropped into the fire.

"Summoning Spell," Marbleheart explained from past
experience to the Magician and the Dwarf. "I saw him do
ft twice in Old Kay."

"An interesting variation of a delightful old charm I
often use to find lost objects," murmured Wong. "Yes, I
can see how it has been cleverly altered to find guidance
and information."

For what seemed a long time nothing happened, but just
as Douglas was about to admit failure, they heard sharp,
excited barking, and a long, low, iron-gray dog trotted up to
the fire, sat hip-shot before them, and lolled out a long pink-
(ind-black tongue, grinning at them in a friendly fashion.




116 Don Caltander

"Someone called?" the dog inquired, cocking its head to
one side.

"I called any nearby Fire friend," answered Douglas,
hiding his surprise. "I am a Pyromancer, and my name is
Douglas Brightglade."

"Pleased to meet you, Pyromancer Brightglade! Not many
of your calling in these parts for many, many years, I'm
afraid. Still, we Fire Dogs remember our duties to the Fire
Wizards quite well."

"Fire Dogs!' exclaimed Marbleheart. "What's a Fire

Dogr

"Long ago we were cast from meteoric iron to con-
trol home fires. Some of us settled here in the Wyvern
Hills when we lost our Wizards. But we remember our
duties, still."

"I remember the Firefly in the Forest of Remembrance,"
said the Otter to his companions. "And the Fire Lizard in the
canyon below the Great Falls of Bloody Brook. I suppose a
Fire Dog shouldn't surprise me."

"Of course not," explained the Dog, tiring of sitting on
its haunches and flopping onto its stomach before them,
short legs tucked underneath its long body. "I was just
going off to howl a bit at the new moon when I felt
you calling, so I came by to see how I could help you,
Pyromancer."

"And we thank you for your courtesy," Douglas said
gravely. "You're a good Dog!"

"Thank you! Thank you! All dogs love to please, you
know. Do you want me to support those lumps in your
fire? It isn't burning as well as it might. Coal fires arc
more particular than wood ones."

Without waiting for an answer, the Fire Dog wriggled on
his stomach under the larger chunks of soft coal Bryarmote
had found on the mountainside and from which Douglas
had made their fire.

At once the flames bumed brighter and taller, gave off
more heat and less smoke and smell. The Dog looked quite
pleased with his effect.

Geomancer                  117

"What's your name, I wonder," asked Wong, intrigued
by the strange animal.

"I am Tongs," replied the Fire Dog. "My mother named
roe after a good friend who worked for a blacksmith on the
far side of Serecomba. Smithing is only one of the things
we Fire Dogs help at extremely well."

The travelers chatted with their visitor for a while, until
Tongs reminded them he had been called for a purpose.

"We seek a Stone Wizard we believe lives in these
mountains. Called Litholt," Douglas told him.

The Fire Dog's eyes lit up with interest.

"Ah, old Litholt! Yes, I've heard that name. Where?
Well, that's a problem, I'm afraid."

His eyes took on a sad, hang-dog look so comical they
all laughed. Tongs ran his tongue over his nose to hide an
embarrassed grin.

"I wish I could help. I know I've met someone called
Litholt a number of times, but I just can't remember where
or anything about him!"

"The Geomancer's hiding spell again!" Wong guessed.
"Litholt really must desire to be left alone! And like that
of the other Earth Wizard, Obsydion, this magic making is
very durable, very hard to crack!"

"I'm terribly upset," confessed Tongs, rolling over in the
coals, sending up a fountain of sparks. "My duty is to help
you. Wizard, but the—something—prevents me! I really
wish I could tell you. I do! I do!"

Douglas soothed the iron animal as best he could. Short-
ly, as the fire died down, the Fire Dog fell asleep in the
embers, sleek head on his paws.

"We almost had it!" Bryarmote said, shaking his head
and beard in regret. "We've come so very close!"

"We've made great progress, really," Wong insisted.
"But I am at a loss for what to suggest next. We can no
more break the Fire Dog's amnesia than we could break
Obsydion's spell on the poor old Stones, in the time we
have."

"We at least know the Geomancer is somewhere near-

118 Don Callander

by, probably in these very mountains," the irrepressible
Marbleheart insisted. "That's something!"

"I think we concentrate on sensing the Wizard's aura,
now that we know we're close," said the Journeyman as
they crawled into their blankets.

"I can help you with that," said the Choinese Magician.

"You'll be a very important part of it, indeed," Douglas
replied with a yawn. "Very important part, I promise you!"

"It relieves me to hear it, Douglas. I have felt quite
useless so far on this adventure."

"You forget your charts and the maps and our introduc-
tion to Captain Foggery," said Bryarmote to his elderly
friend. "But I know how you feel."

By then Douglas had snuggled down inside his blanket
and resigned himself to slumber.

The Otter lay on guard in the cave mouth, watching the
stars wheel overhead in the clear air. After a while he rose
and laid several lumps of fresh coal on the embers next to
the sleeping Fire Dog, to make the fire last until morning.

Tongs mumbled thanks in his sleep.

Chapter Twelve

^

Directions and Diversions

"NOW!" said Douglas after breakfast. "My idea is this:

If I stand on that peak up there"—he pointed—"and you,
Master Wong, stand atop the farthest peak over there, and
we both concentrate and let our Wizard sense tell us in what
direction lies our hidden Wizard's center of power and mark
AM direction carefully ..."

"Where the two lines cross wilt be the Wizard!" cried
Bryarmote. "I've used a similar method tunneling blind
through rock."

"And sailors use such a way to locate themselves off a
strange coastline by converging lines of sight," Marbleheart
said. "If you get a strong enough signal, and mark it with
care, it might just work."

"As there will be no active spelling involved, the Geo-
mancer's magic shielding won't block our attempts. I hope!"
added Wong. "Well, shall we try?"

"What can / do," asked Bryarmote. "I have no feel for
this Wizard sensing, at all."

"Stay with me, Dwarf friend," the Magician invited, "to
help me mark my sighting. Douglas will have the Otter
help him."

Douglas flew them to the top of the farther peak.

"Snow!" exclaimed Marbleheart as they set down on this
high vantage. "Who would have thought there'd be snow
here so close to the desert!"

"Wait a moment, please," said Wong. "We'll need warm

119

120 Don Callander

clothing if we are to stand about up here for very long."

He removed the miniaturized Northland boots and coats
from his sleeve, made them full sized once more, and
quickly passed them out. The wind was blowing ever more
strongly.

"We'd better hurry'" called Douglas as he and Marble-
heart launched themselves into the air. "It's going to snow,
I think. We have an hour, I would say, at the most."

The little Magician and the burly Dwarf waved their
understanding and were shortly lost to sight as Douglas set
his course for the tallest mountain on the eastern edge of
the range to take his own bearings. The sun, looking rather
pale and wan that morning, was Just then clearing the mists
from the horizon.

"Watch your step!" yelped the Otter, who'd jumped to
the ground as soon as they arrived. 'This wind is truly fierce
and there's ice underfoot!"

Heeding his warning, Douglas firmly grasped a handhold
as soon as he touched the icy summit, for the gale threat-
ened to whip him away before he could find a safe place
to stand.

"Give me a few moments to catch my breath—the view
is truly breathtaking, isn't it?" puffed the Journeyman.

"I'll admire the view. You get yourself in position to
point out the Wizard."

The Otter fell silent, crouching down fiat against the
thin covering of snow, waiting for Douglas to find his
bearings.

"That way!" the Journeyman said soon after.

The "sensing" came to him like a low murmur, as if some-
one not far away were humming softly while he worked, not
realizing anyone was listening. It was clear and quite strong,
Douglas felt. He held his right arm outstretched, pointing.

Marbleheart hastily scraped a line in the snow crust with
a forepaw, parallel to the young Wizard's upraised arm. He
added an artistic arrow's point, to show which way it ran.

"How will you carry the direction back to compare it with
Wong's?" he wondered aloud, scrambling back to where

Geomancer                  121

Douglas was clinging to the mountaintop with both hands.

"It's simple navigation now," replied Douglas. He care-
fully drew from his sleeve a flat, metal circle made of brass.
Marbleheart looked at it curiously. It was engraved about its
run with evenly spaced tick marks. Every fifth mark was
longer and labeled with numbers that ran from 0 to 355 by
fives, clockwise.

"It's called a protractor," Douglas explained. "We point
the zero line directly toward the rising sun—which is due
east, of course—and note which degree mark corresponds
to the line pointing to our hidden Wizard."

He suited action to words and announced that the vec-
tor—another new word for the Otter—was exactly 170
degrees around the protractor from east.

"Now what?" his assistant wondered.

"Return to Wong and Bryarmote and see which way their
line points," Douglas replied, and in a moment they were
off again. "Remember the number. Familiar. One hundred
and seventy degrees from east."

"Not soon forget it," said the Otter, but he recited "one
hundred and seventy degrees" over and over to himself all
the way back to Wong's peak-

They found the other two companions hunched close
together behind a sheltering rock, out of the worst of the
blowing snow. They could still see where Bryarmote had
used his Elvensword to make a deep incision in the rock to
indicate the direction of Wong's line of strongest "sense."

"Let's see from here," said Douglas. Wong and he strug-
gled to the summit.

They knelt in the snow. The Familiar slithered here and
there about them, trying to comprehend what they did.
The Dwarf stood over them, sheltering them as best he
could from the rising wind. ready to catch them if they
should slip.

"You heard it best at one hundred fifty-seven degrees, I
see," said the Journeyman. He scratched a diagram on the
bare stone, using a sharp shard of rock as a scribe. He and
Wong studied the result carefully.

122 Don Cailander

"There are at least two higher peaks blocking our view,"
the Magician pointed out. "We must go aloft and look at it
from more directly above."

"And quickly, for the snow is increasing and we'll soon
lose your sun if we delay over long," Bryarmote warned.

"We'll freeze in this mountain air!" protested the Otter.

"Nonsense! No halfway fair Magician would come out
without his warming spells. Let's go!" insisted Wong, who,
for his age, had proved himself to be extremely hardy.

By the time die Journeyman and his Familiar had made
their sightings from high above and returned everyone to
the warmth of the cave, the weather had turned even colder.
It was snowing heavily.

"Might as well have stayed with old Detritus," snorted
the Otter.

"Unless this clears in an hour or so, we'll have to wait
until tomorrow to find where our lines cross," Wong pre-
dicted.

"Well, we might as well make ourselves comfortable and
cozy, build up the fire, maybe break out some hot buttered
rum," suggested Bryarmote, who loved being snowbound
as much as anybody. It would give him a chance to explore
the cave, as well.

"I've never experienced this much snow in my whole
long life," sighed Wong in some awe at the snow drifting
about the cave entrance. "First in Stony Gorge, now here.
Is it magic, do you think, Douglas? I can't detect any
magicking in it."

"No, just plain, ordinary mountain weather," Douglas
answered. He and the Dwarf went out to gather a fresh
supply of coal chunks before the snow got too deep for
easy walking.

The Fire Dog appeared through a veil of white snow and
invited himself to me party.

"Not very often there is a fire to dog around these parts,"
he said with zest.

"You're most welcome!" said Marbleheart. "What's your

Geomancer                  123

prediction of the weather. Tongs?"

"Oh, it's hard to tell," answered the cast-iron beast, care-
fully placing several lumps of coal just so on the hearth. "It
could pass in an hour—or it could snow for a week. I'm no
prognosticator."

"Well, I am," claimed Wong, and he dug several instru-
ments and other curious items from his sleeves and began
to cast a weather forecast while the Dwarf and the Otter set
the supper table.

"Not before midnight will the snow cease, and then it
will get intensely cold for a day or two," announced Wong,
rather portentously. Then he laughed at his own tone. "Sor-
ry! I'm so used to making a show of weather predicting to
our rice farmers. They always like a little dramatic license
with their weather."

"So, let's just settle in and enjoy the forced rest, the
food, and the company," said Douglas, although he was
more than a little disappointed. They all wished to find
the Geomancer immediately and head for Stony Gorge,
snow or not. But nothing could be done. Even strong Fire
Magic could do tittle to turn aside an alpine storm of this
intensity.

"If I tried anything it might just turn all to rain, and that
might be even worse," Douglas decided. '*A heavy rain on
these slopes could be pretty destructive, I fear. Besides, it
would undoubtedly alert Lithold to our close presence. He
might choose to move away."

Marbleheart, with his sharpening magical skills, ordered
up a feast of broiled steaks and plump baked potatoes, a
crisp cob salad, bacon-flavored green beans, and chocolate
layer cake. Meanwhile, Douglas sent for Deka the Wraith to
carry messages detailing their progress to Augurian, Mym,
and Bronze Owl.

'The barrier I experienced here doesn't slow me when I
have a known location at either end," explained the Wraith.
She winked out with Douglas's messages and brought
answers before they finished Blue Teakettle's scrumptious
chocolate cake.

^•!
-if

124 Don Callander

"Bronze Owl says he has nothing to report. No word from
Flarman," the Otherworlder told them, sipping delicately
from a cup of hot lemonade. "Augurian is concerned about
Mym. He knows that Detritus is, as he put it, 'chomping at
the bit.' "

"It must be serious, when Augurian uses slang. What
does Mym say, though?" Douglas asked anxiously.

"Oh, the Lady Apprentice says not to worry. She has the
situation well in hand."

The bridegroom clucked with concern.

"Mistress Mym could handle seventy Stone giants and
sew a fine seam at the same time," claimed Marbleheart,
loyally.

"You're right!" admitted Douglas with a wry smile, "but
somehow I can't help worrying about her."

"A normal part of being in love, I understand," Wong
consoled him. "Not that I know much of love, mind you.
I've never met a lady willing to share her house with cruci-
bles and thuribles and such, not to mention the sometimes
nose-twitching odors of magical dabbling."

"What? Never!" scoffed the Dwarf. "A handsome man
like you, Master Wong? A good provider, too! I'd think the
pretty and dainty Choinese maidens would trip over their
own toes to catch your eye."

"Perhaps ... at one time it was so," admitted the little
Magician, actually blushing. "There was once a beautiful
young poetess . .."

Through the stormy evening and on into the night they
sat about me slow coal fire. ate and drank and told stories
until they fell asleep—all except the Fire Dog, who kept
the fire going as the outside temperature plunged. He hardly
slept, just rested from time to time among the comfortably
glowing embers.

Mym Manstar discovered to her surprise that Chief Detri-
tus had an insatiable appetite for stories. The more magic
and monsters, me better.

'Tell me again about the Beings who came to fight
the Battle of Sea with you and Augurian, Flarman, and

Geomancer                  125

Douglas," he all but begged, although he had obviously
come intending to browbeat her once again.

"Not tonight, sir," she said, with an unfeigned yawn. "I
must get my sleep. I still have a lot of studying to do if I
am to pass to Journeyman before too terribly long."

"When can I come back and hear your story of the
Destruction of the Ice Palace?" Detritus asked.

"Come for lunch tomorrow, if you please," she replied.

As he left the Column—he'd been standing in a freezing
rain all that time, listening and exclaiming in wonder as
she recounted the war against Frigeon—he asked, almost
apologetically, "Do you think we'll hear from your Wizard
soon?"

"I had a message from him this very afternoon," Myrn
said, turning down the firelight so she could sleep. "He
is—they are—within a few miles of the Geomancer Litholt,
even now. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day at the latest
they'll find him. You must practice greater patience, Detri-
tus. Your people certainly are patient and long suffering.
Why not you?"

"I am... responsible. I've promised them they would
not much longer be hard, heavy, unliving rocks," he replied
very slowly. "I must not disappoint them!"

He strode away through the downpour.

/ have come to respect and even like the stubborn old
rockhead, thought Mym. He's not as bad as he would like
everyone, even himself, to think. It'll be more of a problem
keeping him out of trouble of his own making than getting
myself out of this gorge and back to my Douglas.

She took a moment to jot these musings down, so that
she would remember to give them to Deka, the next time
the Wraith came with reports from the search party.

Then she slept.

"Strange request from an Aquamancer's Apprentice held
hostage in a far land," Augurian said to Stormy, his Petrel
Familiar. "Let me see! She wants me to send her Tales
:^ of the Queen of Faerie and a copy, if I can find it, of

126 Don Callander

Adventures of the Fair Young Maiden and perhaps The
Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Now, there's a hard one! Where
can one lay a hand on a copy of that classic?"

Stormy cocked his head to one side and squawked
quizzically.

"The Lord of the Rings7 Never heard of that one,"
Augurian went on. "Maybe Harman has it in his library.
He always did favor odd and little-known histories of
that sort."

He gathered together the requested volumes, some ancient
and worn, others gaudily printed and illustrated in color for
the pampered children of wealthy men in far-off lands to
stimulate their imaginations and teach them of the real World
beyond their fathers' walls.

He slipped a note to Mym under the flyleaf of the copy
of Maiden, which happened to be on top of the pile.

"What Worldly use do you have for this sort of literature,
if I may ask?" it read.

Back shortly came an answer, in Mym's clear, careful,
and feminine hand.

Dear My Magister,

Thank you for the adventure and history books.
As for my reasons, they are twofold. First, my cap-
tor, as he calls himself. Chief of Stones Detritus, is
an absolute pushover for stories of Heroes, Fairies,
Magicians, wicked Witches and all that sort of things.
As long as I can keep him asking for—and as long as
I can provide—such tales, he is tame as a library lion.'
He can't think of sending me away or hiding me under
the Ice Cap, for then he would miss my stories.

The second reason should be more obvious. These
poor people have been imprisoned in this Gorge for
a thousand years. Think of all the history they've
missed in ten centuries! I tell Detritus what I can
of the past and I think he spends his evenings
retelling it all to his people in the Meeting Hall.

Geomancer                  1:

/ like to think they are learning a more civilized
view of life, also. They have good souls within their
stone-hard hearts but their World, long since passed
away, was one of harsh cruelty, selfishness, war at the
drop of an insult, and bloody fighting just to survive.

They find the ideas of keeping peace and working
hard for the satisfaction of accomplishment totally
foreign. They will soon be rejoining our World.
Perhaps I can help show them attitudes that will
serve them something better than their old ideals of
bitter conquest, cruel barbarity, and bloody strife.

Thus the books. In the end, someone will have to
teach them to read for themselves. Perhaps Flarman's
Valley neighbors would lend them Schoolmaster
Frackett, a former Wizard himself.

—Mym, your Apprentice

Chapter Thirteen

^>

Litholt's Dome

FROM high over the mountaintops Douglas peered down
at a certain curious peak. It rose at the intersection of the
two lines of Wizard power he and Wong had marked the
previous morning.

Unlike the other peaks about it, this one alone was softly
rounded, falling smoothly to a circular vale surrounded by
the more angular peaks and rougher slopes.

It had no snowcap. About its base stood a forest of great
trees, some perhaps fifty feet tall, with dark green or grey-
green leaves in wide-spreading crowns. Where the sun's
rays struck them, their leaves glistened a bright spectrum
of colors.

"That's the Geomancer's home," he declared with cer-
tainty.

"There?" asked Marbleheart, who had come along for the
ride. "I don't see any houses or castles or even caves."

"No, it's the whole mountain. See? The rounded one with
the tall, dark trees."

"Ah, yes, now I see. That must be the place! Something
strange about those trees, though. Do you catch it?"

Douglas circled the rock dome slowly.

"No, I don't see . . ."

"Their leaves don't blow in the wind. There's still a
pretty strong wind and a pretty cold one, too. But see! The
leaves don't move at all in the gale!"

Said Douglas, "We'll find out when we get down there."

129

130 Don Callander

He directed their course back to the cave to pick up the
other members of the search party. An hour later the four
of them stood on a mountain slope above the circular vale,
staring at the remarkable dome opposite.

"Look for a gate or a door," Douglas suggested quietly.
"There must be a way in."

"None that I can see from here," whispered Marbleheart.
"No roads lead to mis spot. No goat paths on its flanks,
even- No cave openings. What do you think, Bryarmote?"

"Never seen a hill quite like it," the Dwarf admitted.
"I think you're right, Douglas. It's hollow. I smell smoke,
don't you?"

"Yes, I do," replied the Journeyman. "But I don't see
where it's coming from."

Wong, perched on a ledge nearby, was slowly scanning
the domed mountain with his wise old gray eyes, missing
nothing.

"We must pass through the wood," he said. "These are
not normal, usual trees, dear friends."

"I thought as much," said the Otter. "Yet... they don't
seem menacing to me."

"We can tell better when we reach them," said the
Choinese Magician. "The Wizard sense is very strong here,
do you notice? I wonder that Litholt has not yet noticed our
presence."

Said Bryarmote, "Well, come on' We'll never find the
way in by standing out here."

They could have flown down, but Bryarmote preferred
solid ground beneath his feet if anything dangerous should
happen, and Douglas agreed. Wong, rather than clamber
awkwardly down the scree-slippery slope to the edge of the
trees, opened his parasol and, using it as a parachute, floated
gracefully after them, three feet above the rough ground.

Marbleheart slid down a bank of new snow and splashed
merrily into the brook in the bottom of the vale.

The great trees grew so close together it was difficult to
find a way between their boles. There was no underbrush,
either, only bare rock and gravel underfoot.

Geomancer                 131

"If there were underbrush, I bet it would be thick and
thorny," grumbled Marbleheart. "What is it about these
trees. Master Wong?"

"I've discovered their secret already," Wong told him.

He laid his small hands on the nearest trunk and gazed
up at its crown, forty or fifty feet above.

"Quite remarkable! Feel this," he said to the Otter, and
when Marbleheart had pressed his forepaws to the bole, he
started back in amazement.

"They're not wood at all. They're stone! Stone trees!"

Bryarmote and Douglas felt the trunks of several near-
by trees.

*This one isn't stone, however," called the Dwarf. " 'Tis
metal' Iron, I believe. Magnetic, at that!"

His steel dagger had leaped from its sheath and slammed
with some force against the iron tree, stuck fast.

"Hmm," said Douglas to Wong. 'That would explain . .."

"Yes, the barrier to magic- Magnetism is very effective
in throwing spells awry."

Bryarmote drew his Elvensword, which was made of
some other metal than steel or iron, it seemed, and struck
the trunk of one of the stone trees a terrible blow.

The tree and the blade rang like bells, and a shower of
intense blue sparks flew every which way, falling to the
damp ground where they glowed and hissed for several
seconds before winking out. Other than that, the tree bole
showed no sign of damage from the magic blade, nor was
the blade marked.

"Well, maybe that'll tell the Wizard we're here," said
Douglas, accepting the inevitable. "Did it dull your edge,
Bryarmote?"

"Nothing, not even cast magnetite or carved stone can
damage an Elvensword," said the Dwarf, returning the blade
to its scabbard with some satisfaction and then wrenching his
dagger from the iron tree's bark. He slid the dagger into his
sheath and hooked it in place with a loop of leather.

"I ask myself," murmured Wong Tscha San, "why the
trees are here at all?"

132 Don Callander

"They are quite beautiful in a hard and unyielding way,"
observed Marbleheart. "Certainly quite durable, they'd be."

"I imagine such creations would delight a Geomancer,"
agreed Douglas.

Bryarmote snorted in practical derision.

"Nonsense! I'm an expert on fortifications, excavations,
and construction of all sorts, and 1 say these trees were
placed here to screen the entrance to the Wizard's house."

"If that's so," said Wong, "we have but to pass through
them to find Lithotd's entrance."

For better than an hour they tried to find their way
through the belt of close-set trunks. Each time they caught
a glimpse of the cleared ground beyond, some circumstance
forced them to take a different line, and they found them-
selves drawing further away from the mountain rather than
closer.

"I recognize a Mazing Spell when I see it," said
Douglas to Wong. 'The Geomancer has enchanted the
trees so they prevent anyone passing them, although the
way seems easy."

"You're right, of course. Fire Wizard!" exclaimed Wong
with a chuckle- "Do you know the Universal Mazing Solu-
tion? I'm sure Flarman taught it to you early in your train-
ing."

"Yes, I remember it," said Douglas, stopping to think.
"Yes, I have it now. But that's so simple!"

"Mazing is a complex spell, worthy of our Geomancer,"
Wong said, stretching out his right hand. "It begs for a
simple solution. Follow me, honored sirs!"

Douglas fell in line behind him. Bryarmote, wise in the
ways of Magicians and Wizards, made no comment but
got in line behind Douglas. Marbleheart, who was learning
not to make hasty judgments where magic was concerned,
brought up the rear.

Wong set his left hand on the nearest stone tree and
walked about it to his right, slowly. Before he had gone
half way around his hand was stopped by an adjacent tree,

Geomancer

133

pressed so close against the first at this point that they could
not pass between them.

Wong transferred his left hand to the new tree and,
keeping it tightly brushing its iron bark, moved forward
around the new bole.

By many ingenious means the great trees always passed
the Magician's gentle hand from one bole to the next, in
a twisted, convoluted path, often seeming to turn back
on itself, but always leading to a brand-new way in the
end.

Nobody spoke except in whispers—Marbleheart realized
they had been doing so since arriving in this strange grove.
If Wong lost touch, the Otter thought, they'd probably have
to begin all over again.

"What's happening?" he whispered to Douglas, unable
to contain his curiosity longer. "What is Wong doing. Mas-
ter?"

'The Universal Solution—it'll solve any maze, anywhere,
if you give it enough time. You put a hand on one wall
and follow that wall without lifting your hand. Never
fails! As long as you keep that same hand to the wall—
tree-trunks, in this case—it'll eventually lead you to the
center of the maze—or outside the maze if you started
from the center. I've read of it many times, and even
worked it out on paper, but I've never actually seen it
done."

"Is it working?" the Otter asked.

"Hush!" said Bryarmote, who had built a few subterra-
nean mazes in his day and was very interested to see if the
solution really worked. "Don't take his mind off what he's
doing."

"His hand, rather," corrected Marbleheart. "Well, I'll be
hornswoggled!"

For they had rounded a particularly large ironwood trunk
and walked out into the wide and neatly mowed lawn
between the inner edge of the forest and the foot of the
rock dome.

"Aha!" cried Douglas in delight. "You did it!"

134 Don Callander

"A clever way to disguise a maze," conceded Wong.
He was quite pleased by their sincere compliments. "I
must commend Litholt for its ingenuity when we at last
meet him."

They walked some way around the dome, looking for an
entrance both with their eyes and with the Wizards' sharp
magic senses.

'This may be a tougher problem than just the maze of
trees," said Wong, frowning. "There is certainly a way in,
but there are many ways to hide a door."

"I know quite a few of them," claimed Bryarmote. "I've
hidden some entrances, too, in my day."

He took the lead, stopping frequently to examine what
seemed to the others to be plain, smooth rock faces, or tiny
cracks or narrow clefts. No snow had fallen here, at least,
which made the walking easy.

The air was chilled, but it was not the intense cold they
had felt outside the ring of stone elms and ironwoods. Little
sunlight penetrated the stone leaves, casting the clearing in
a soothing twilight.

At noon they stopped to rest and eat roast beef
sandwiches, radish roses, and carrot sticks.

"If the entrance is higher up the mountainside, I would
think," said the Otter, "there would be steps or a ramp
leading to it."

"Unless the Wizard always flies in and out the front
door," said Bryarmote. He sounded discouraged.

"So close!" said Marbleheart. "So far, yet'"

"Don't give up so easily," Wong Tscha San said, patting
the Otter on the back.

"It's not me! I just hate to see the Dwarf lose his confi-
dence," said Marbleheart with a laugh. "He's beginning to
turn bright red even now, you see."

Aside from a sip or two of Trunkety ale with his roast
beef sandwich for lunch, Marbleheart had not drunk any-
thing since he had gobbled a mouthful of new, clean snow
early in the morning. He tried to ignore his thirst, but it

Geomancer                  135

grew and grew until he thought he heard it grumbling in his
tummy, saying all manner of nasty things about his mouth
being out of order.

The stream in the vale, of course, was outside the solid
ring of trees. He had no desire to find his way back in by
himself, even if he could find a way out.

"I'm going ahead to look for water," he said at last.
"Catch up with me later."

"I was thinking the next step, now that we've just about
circled the whole mountain," said Bryarmote, "is to circle
it again by air, around and around, high and higher. Cover
it all that way."

"Well," said Douglas doubtfully. "If that's what you
suggest, I'll go along with it. Don't go too far off," he
added to the Otter.

"I never get lost," claimed the beast, and he gallumped
off ahead of the rest.

"He's a restless creature," Douglas reminded the Dwarf,
who had plopped to the ground, angry with himself and the
whole business.

"Let 'im go," growled Bryarmote. "I need to sit a quiet
while and perhaps I can think of something. It makes sense
that a main doorway be at ground level. Yet..."

"If you decide to fly," said the Journeyman, "just let me
know."

Wong wandered off to examine an ironwood tree, won-
dering if they bore fruit and thus had seeds and how long
they took to reach full size. Iron trees would be handy things
to grow in Choin proper, where metals were extremely
scarce and mining a monopoly of certain greedy Bureau-
crats who charged prices so high common folk couldn't
afford to buy them. Iron tools were extremely expensive
as a result. Steel was almost as dear as silver.

Marbleheart, meanwhile following around the curved
wall, cried out with satisfaction. From a nearly vertical
crevice flowed a sprightly little stream, leaping in tiny
waterfalls from ledge to ledge. At its foot it splashed
merrily into a deep, clear pool.

136 Don Callander

First the Sea Otter took several long, refreshing gulps and
then a joyful swim. The water was sweet and cold. He tried
sliding off the lowest ledge into the pool, making a happy
splash. He did this several times over again, then laid on
the mossy brim to catch his breath and wait for the others
to come along.

Only then did he realize, with a sudden start, that he'd
made an important find.

"This poof drains back into the mountain," he said to
himself. "It might provide us a way to get inside!"

He swam across the pool to inspect its outlet under the
dome wall. The water flowed under a low arch perhaps four
feet high in the middle and as black as the inside of a boot
beyond.

He was tempted to explore on his own—he was com-
pletely unafraid of the dark, but he remembered the Barrows
of Old Kingdom once again. He wasn't prepared to face a
possibly irate and undoubtedly powerful Wizard alone.

He retraced his steps, surprised at how far he had come,
and found Douglas napping on a soft bed of sunlit fems
under an overhanging bit of outcrop. Bryarmote busily
scribbled in a notebook with a chewed stub of pencil, draw-
ing up a list of known ways to hide doors and entrances.
Wong was seated in a shaft of warm sunshine, his legs
crossed and his hands folded in his lap, eyes closed, hum-
ming softly to himself.

"How's it go?" Marbleheart asked the Dwarf, hugging
his secret for a moment longer.

"Blasted and beswizzled!" swore the Dwarf, throwing
down his pencil and then stooping to retrieve it to return
it to his jacket pocket, along with the notebook. "No ideas
at all! Sorry for being such a grump!"

"I completely understand," soothed the Otter. "Did your
list include hiding a door under a waterfall?"

"Oh, yes, I covered that possibility some time ago. But
there are no waterfalls, here. No water at all.. ."

He stared hard at the sleek animal, still soaking wet from
his swim.

Geomancer                  137

"Where?"

"Just a way along," responded Marbleheart with a broad
Otter grin. "And the stream runs back into the rock!"

"Hoy!" shouted the Dwarf, leaping to his feet. "Hey,
fellows! Come on! This super Familiar has found us an
entry."

Wong stirred at once and rose gracefully to his feet
without touching the ground with his hands. Douglas rolled
over on his right side, groaned at his stiffness, and blinked
a moment before he climbed to his feet.

"A waterfall down the side of the dome," explained
Marbleheart quickly. "Into a nice little pool that drains
back into the dome\ Come on! It'll get us into the innards
ofLitholt's Mountain."

Chapter Fourteen

^

AMostSurprising KindofWzard

THEY waded into Litholt's Mountain along the tiny
bum, bent almost double—except for the Otter, who went
on all fours or swam happily in the rippling current.

At first it was as dark as Marbleheart had said, and
Douglas had to light their way with a flame floating in
the air over his forehead. After a quarter mile straight into
the rock, a dim, soureeless glow from the ceiling and walls
made the flame unnecessary. The glow became brighter the
farther they went. The tunnel ceiling rose to three times the
Journeyman's six feet.

"No signs of habitation," commented the Otter, looking
around curiously.

"You wouldn't expect signs of life in an aqueduct, would
you?" snorted Bryarmote. "Which is what this obviously
is- Besides, you're wrong. This tunnel may be natural,
but there're touches of good harorock chiseling here and
mere."

He pointed to a high water mark well above his head on
the tunnel side. "Just as well it's not spring," he observed.
"With the snowmelt, the water must get pretty deep through
here."

They found their way easily down a shallow cascade and
around a catch basin below. The stream disappeared into
a narrow cleft in the rock, too narrow for even the Otter
to follow. To one side of the catchment was a landing,
however, and a steep, narrow rock-hewn stair mounted

139

140 Don Callander

upward to and through a hole in the ceiling.

They climbed through several levels where passages
branched right and left. Douglas led them upward.

"How can you be sure this is the right way?" asked
Wong.

"The Feather Pin," Douglas explained. "It guides its
wearer through underground places. It served us well when
Mym rescued me from the erupting Blueye, you'll recall."

"I recall," said the Magician. "Do you sense, as I do, we
are very close to our Wizard? The emanation is remarkably
powerful. Twice what I would normally expect, actually."

They came to an iron grille that blocked the stair before
them.

Said Bryarmote, "Here, my blade will hack it down in
no time!"

"Wait," Douglas urged. "Don't damage the Wizard's
property, if you can help it. You yourself taught me lock
picking—something every Wizard should know, you said.
Let me see if I can get it open."

He examined the grille carefully. It was set right into the
rock on top and sides, without a handle or visible hinges or
lock mechanism.

"On the other hand ...," he started to say to Bryarmote.

There was a startlingly loud clang behind them. A second
grille dropped heavily into place, trapping them on the steps
between the two gates.

"Now can I smash it?" yelled Bryarmote, whipping out
his bright Elvensword.

"I guess you'd better," replied Douglas, skipping nimbly
out of the Dwarf's way.

"Hist! Listen!" whispered Marbleheart as Bryarmote
raised the sword. "Someone's coming!"

"A Wizard cometh," warned Wong.

"Wrong, Wong! Two Wizards'" said a familiar voice.

Flarman Flowerstalk pressed his round, smiling face
against the other side of the grille.

"I was right to let them in, you see," the older
Pyromancer said to a figure standing in the shadows

Geomancer                 141

behind him. "They're old friends! In fact, this one was
once my Apprentice, and is about to become a full Master
Pyromancer, if he can pass the Examination!"

"Magister!" cried Douglas. "What in World are you doing
here?"

"I have the seniority over you. Journeyman, so I get to
ask questions first," Flarman said, and laughed, his usual
jolly self. "Let me introduce my long-lost friend and fel-
low Master Wizard, Litholt Stonebreaker. Litholt, this is
Douglas Brightglade, of whom I've told you quite a little.
With him is the famous Choin Magician, Wong Tscha San,
and the fierce-looking Dwarf—who was about to slice up
your fancy grillwork with his Elvensword—is Bryarmote,
Prince of Dwelmland. And there is Douglas's Familiar, of
course, Marbleheart, Sea Otter of the Briney."

He stepped aside to allow the stranger to greet his friends.
All four gasped in unison and utter surprise.
The long-missing Geomancer was—a Lady!

"There is quite a bit to sort out and set straight here, I
can see," Litholt Stonebreaker said pleasantly after she had
raised the grille to allow them to enter her home. "I'm so
pleased to meet you, every one! I feel as though I know
you all, from Flarman's tales."

She led them into a large, tall, rather ornately luxurious
yet quite comfortable home under the top of the dome. In
a great sitting room as filled with heavily carved furniture,
bnc-a-brac, scientific curiosities, mementos, souvenirs, and
strange artifacts as Flarman's study at Wizards' High, she
served brisk Choin tea from an ancient teapot.

It was painted with intertwined dragons in red and black
and gold, which hissed good-naturedly at them as she
poured.

"Flarman never once told me that there was another Lady
Wizard in World, ma'am," Douglas told her. "Forgive me
for being quite ... flabbergasted."

"Nothing to forgive, young Journeyman!" Litholt smiled
graciously, patting him on the arm. "Flarman was but

142 Don Callander

honoring a long-ago request I made of him and of the other
Wizards of our Fellowship. That was over three hundred
years ago."

"Before Last Battle, then," said Marbleheart, showing off
his knowledge of World history.

"Yes," Litholt sighed sadly- "I was the youngest member
of the Fellowship."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're still young and still a
member, dear Lithott," said Flarman, contently lighting his
pipe with a blazing forefinger.

"Even though I deserted the cause just when things were
getting really dangerous?" the Lady Geomancer asked, turn-
ing to the Fire Master.

She was a strikingly handsome woman, somewhat angu-
lar, but well proportioned, for all of that. There was noth-
ing soft nor gently curved about her, not in the way that
Douglas found so wonderful in Mym Manstar. Her hair
was the color of darkened amber, and her eyes jade green.
Her demeanor was dignified yet warm; her smile was quick,
kind, and merrier as she came to know her visitors better.

She gently stroked the deep, soft fur of Marbleheart's
shoulders and neck—he would have purred if he'd been a
cat—saying as she did so, "I had a beloved Familiar myself
once. A Golden Cockerel."

"I remember brave Aurelius," said Flarman softly.

"It was his cruel, most horrible destruction by the
Darkness"—the Lady Wizard shuddered in revulsion at
the memory—"that caused me to leave the Fellowship
when I did. Most of my powers were stripped away by
my grief. I would have been a hindrance, not a help, in the
terrible battles we knew were coming—Flarman, Augurian,
Frigeon, and I."

"You don't have to explain further, madam," said Wong,
bowing to her deeply. "I myself failed to be present at
the War against the Darkness. I was only a half-trained
Magician's Assistant when it began."

"Well, there's certainly a lot to tell, as I said." Litholt,
straightening her shoulders, shook off her remembered grief
and reached for her teacup. '"Where shall we begin?"

Geomancer                  143

Harman pointed at his Journeyman to begin the tale.

In as few words as he could manage, Douglas told of the
statue in Eternal Ice, and the thrall under which the Stone
Warriors had been held for ten centuries.

"Go on to the end, before we stop you to question and
explain or make comments," Flarman urged, waving his
pipe.

Douglas did so, briefly telling of their visit with Captain
Foggery and their search of me Serecomba for the mysteri-
ous Geomancer. Litholt and Flarman sat forward in riveted
interest, but said nothing until the Journeyman had related
how they at last located Litholt's Mountain.

"It's my fault," said Litholt. "I forgot to lower my
defenses. But Flarman and I were unaware of the other
events and of your coming to find me."

"My presence here is unconnected with your adventure,"
Flarman explained. "Shall I tell it, my dear, or shall you?"

"I want you to tell it, Flarman Flowerstalk—did I tell
you how much more I like your new surname? Please
go on! I shall interrupt from time to time, as is a wom-
an's due."

Flarman knocked the cold dottle from his pipe bowl into
a fieldstone fireplace and turned to face the others.

"When 1 glanced into my teacup no one was further from
my mind than Litholt Stonebreaker. Imagine my shock,
after more than three hundred and twenty years, to discover
her message there!

"I was so surprised, and her message was so unexpec-
ted, that I rushed off without even packing a toothbrush.
And without telling anyone where I was going. That was
quite inexcusable, I know. I must have caused you some
worry."

"Especially as Douglas disappeared at almost the same
moment," Bryarmote agreed. "We—Augurian, Mym,
Wong, Owl, and I—were sure the two events were
connected."

"I kept looking for you to come zipping along to share the

144 Don Callander

new adventure," Douglas said. He added, a little ashamed
to say it, "I'm sure Mym feels the same way about me,
just now, stuck on that bare column in the Northlands with
winter coming on!"

"We'll see that she's relieved sooner than soon," prom-
ised Litholt.

*To go on, if I may," said Flannan, "the message said
our old friend realized she could no longer hide from her
responsibilities. She called on me to enlighten and then
assist her return to World. We would have come to Wiz-
ards' High before now, but for a turbulence in the magical
ether between here and there. You may have noticed it
yourself, Douglas my boy."

"Deka told me of it, actually," the Journeyman admitted.
"It didn't seem to affect the working of the Feather Pin we
used to come here."

"Well, I know something of that, for Finesgold asked
me to redesign the Pin ages ago," Flarman said, nodding
his head emphatically. "It was made originally by Cloud
Fairies, you see, and their magic would be virtually unaf-
fected by any worldly phenomena."

"I don't blame you for delaying your departure from
here!" said Wong. "I have come to the conclusion that
the disturbance you—we all—felt arises from the pain and
confusion of recent events in Choin."

"We must hear of that, too," said Litholt. "Choin is my
adopted land- The stability of her government was what
attracted me to Choin centuries ago. I'm distraught that I
was unaware of the fighting affecting the poor Choinese
now, Master Wong! Yes, that would explain the trouble
even Deka had penetrating the area."

Flarman continued, "When I arrived here Litholt told me
she had begun to hear whispers of hints of fears of civil war
in Choin. But we thought no more of it, thinking we would
hear further details as time went by."

"I've been watching Choin all the years I've lived here,"
explained Litholt. "1 couldn't do much, of course, because

Geomancer                  145

of the Prohibition. I certainly regret that now, because I saw
the great Empire beginning to crumble and slump. I heard
of the dishonesty, the greed, the cruel selfishness of some
of its leaders, especially the Imperial Bureaucrats. I saw the
people allowing it to happen, which was even sadder. You
know better than I, Wong Tscha San, how it has been."

The Magician bowed deeply to the Lady Wizard.

"When Litholt learned, some days ago," Flarman said,
"that the Emperor was on his deathbed, beyond all medical
or magical help, she decided it was time to return to an
active life in World. I'm flattered to say she first sent
for me."

"I didn't know Augurian's whereabouts, and I would
have sent for you, also, Wong Tscha San, if I'd known
where you were. My rather tenuous contacts said you had
fled—and who could blame you? Flarman tells me you were
with him. even as I sent the tea-leaves message."

'Truly honored madam! If I hadn't taken a long and
delightful walk in the springtime fields of Valley that
morning, I would have been by Barman's side when he
read your message in the tea leaves."

"I agreed that we must do something to stabilize Choin,"
Flarman went on. "Do you realize how many good people
are bound to be badly hurt, starved, even killed, if a war
between Bureaucrats begins in earnest?"

"You must also remember our constant, ages-old con-
cern," added the Geomancer, "that remnants of the Dark-
ness still in hiding on the very top of World might take
advantage of such a chaotic situation to rebuild their power.
Especially if it could gain domination over so important a
part of World as the Choin Empire."

"While the Emperor yet lives, Choin's troubles are a
matter of mobs and riots," Flarman nodded in agreement
with her words. "An occasional burning, perhaps. An unfor-
tunate murder. But once the Dragon Throne is empty and
no one with sense, integrity, and a clear vision of Choin's
future standing by to fill it, the Bureaucrats will be at each
other's throats in earnest! The worst sort of war will rage

146 Don Callander

all over this vast land. Brother against brother, and neighbor
against neighbor! Peasant against merchant against scholar,
and so on!"

"What shall we do, then?" asked the Magician of Choin.
"Or, rather, what will we do, for I am at your service,
Wizards."

"Thank you. Master Wong," smiled Flarman. "Mistress
Litholt and I have been consulting and trying to get a handle
on the complications of Choin politics. First, I had to bring
her up to date on recent history, of course."

"My self-imposed exile was much too long," sighed the
Geomancer. "I didn't even know who won Last Battle,
although I might have guessed."

"We have advanced to the questions: Whom, if anyone,
to support? Whom to nudge a little? Whom to suppress,
ever so gently, so that a worthy and capable Emperor-
candidate can be found? Who can that man or woman
be? With you here, Wong, perhaps we can begin to sort
it out."

"It sounds like we've been fencing the winds," put in
Litholt, "but the unfortunate fact is, our hands are tied
until the old Emperor actually passes away. I wish it were
elsewise, but,.."

"We're agreed, without my even asking the others, that
Choin deserves and shall have our help," said Douglas
stoutly. "If you can give me the key to disspelling the
Stones, I can retrieve my bride-to-be, pick up Augurian,
and we can give our full attention to matters here."

"Of course, the Stones' disenchantment must come first,
by all means," insisted the Lady Wizard.

"And I agree. Both the Master's Examination and the
Winter Solstice Wedding are of utmost importance to World
and to all us Wizards, not just to Mym and Douglas," said
Flarman.

"Douglas," said Litholt slowly, "1 cannot quickly teach
you the disspelling. I'll go with you to this place of me
Stones' long imprisonment. The spell, from what I've
learned from you, isn't going to be difficult for me to

Geomancer                  147

smash, but certainly it cannot be effected from this great
a distance."

"But you can do it?" asked Marbleheart eagerly. He was
greatly impressed with this wise woman who knew the
difference between "effect" and "affect."

"No doubt about it! I've studied for years and years the
wicked enchantments wrought by Obsydion Grindstone.
Although he was long gone when I was bom, when I chose
Geomancy for my craft, I willingly accepted responsibility
for seeking out and reversing his many wickednesses. In
fact, I have devoted my last three hundred years, here under
my mountain dome, to just that work."

**0bsydion made Frigeon look like a rank amateur,"
claimed Barman. "For one thing, he lived a considerably
longer time. He was one of the very first of all the Great
Wizards."

"I suspected that from what the Stones said," said
Douglas.

"Well, someone tell me what is to be done now," pleaded
Marbleheart. "I think there's been altogether too much talk
and not enough action."

"I'll agree with my whole heart to that!" cried Bryarmote.
"Find me a battle to fight. I'm ready!"

Douglas summoned Deka the Wraith and sent messages
to Mym, Owl, and Augurian. To his beloved Apprentice
Aquamancer he said, among other private words:

We 're on our way, as soon as we get some sleep and
Mistress Utholt gathers together the spells she 'II need
to take care of the Stones. We must stop and confer
with Foggery on our way past, Fiarman says, but
that shouldn't take long. We'll go by Feather Pin,
as Flarman's Teleporting Spell is worn thin by his
coming here, and Litholt's is dangerously uncertain
through lack of use.

They arrived at Foggery's pleasant seaside house in a
msh of wind, a thudding hail of hand-sized stones, and a

148 Don Callander

flashing cloud of red-painted, black-fletched arrows.

The Seacaptain's house was under attack by a troop of
soldiers in red-lacquered leather greaves, breastplates, and
helmets. They were bombarding Foggery's thick outer wall
and tiled roof with three stone-throwing machines.

"Good of you to drop by!" the elderly Seacaptain said,
grinning despite a bloody bandage over his left ear. "As
soon as we drive off the Minister of Finance's bullies, we'll
have tea and talk politics."

"Leave the nasty ballistae to me," cried Litholt. "Stones
have plenty of good uses, but throwing them at people's
houses is just not one of them!"

With surprising agility for a woman of her age and
dignity she climbed to the top of the wall, disregarding
another shower of arrows, and raised her arms dramati-
cally above her head, chanting a strange string of harsh
words that not even the other Wizards present quite under-
stood.

Stones already in midnight completely missed their tar-
gets, shooting instead straight into the evening sky a hun-
dred, two hundred feet in the air. As tiny black specks
they curved gracefully back on their trajectories and came
screaming in vengeance down on the very machines that
had launched them.

The shrill war cries of the soldiers turned to screams
of fear and pain. Jagged wood splinters from the heavy
machines flew like spears. Rock missiles shattered on
impact, shards ricocheting about the scene like a swarm
of deadly hornets.

In a single blow every ballistae had been reduced to
useless kindling. The lacquered attackers fled in wild panic,
throwing down their pikes and powerful, recurved bows to
make flight faster.

"Gather up those bows and arrows." Foggery ordered his
orange-robed young men. 'There'll be use for them later,
I'm afraid."

"Why so?" asked Wong. He introduced Flarman and
Litholt. Douglas and Bryarmote went off to inspect the

Geomancer                  149

damage done to Foggery's stout villa.

"You haven't heard the news? It came from Bee-Wing
this noontide. The Emperor is dead!"

"I'm really very sorry to hear it," said Litholt, "although
he was a poor excuse for an Emperor in a land once famous
for its great rulers."

"Was death from natural causes?" asked Flarman.
"Or.. ."

"I doubt even the most ambitious Minister would have
dared hasten his death by even a few hours," Foggery
replied.

He led them through a gaping hole where once his sliding
sitting-room door had stood. A group of Choinese maidens
in the orange of Foggery's livery were already busy remov-
ing the debris of destruction wrought by direct hits.

'That can wait, ladies," called the Seacaptain. "Tea for
our guests, and supper soon after—if there's anything left
of my galley."

By the rime Douglas and the Dwarf returned, reporting
no serious damage to the wall and roof, and no one badly
hurt, there were hot tea, sugared cakes, and salted almonds
glazed with honey awaiting them.

The orange-robed men, having collected and stored away
all the arms dropped by the fleeing soldiers, set about at
once repairing the paper wall and sliding door, working
swiftly, skillfully, and silently so as not to disturb their
revered Seacaptain and his guests.

"Serious fighting began even as the word spread,"
Foggery said, shaking his head. "As we feared it would,
good Masters. I knew the Minister of Finance was anxious
to stop my newbom Peasants' Grange and the Artisans'
Guild, but it came as a surprise that they struck at me so
soon and in such force."

"I'm sorry we didn't arrive a little sooner. Captain," said
Litholt, greatly upset by the beautiful Choin art objects and
ceramics that lay smashed on the floor.

"Thank you kindly. Mistress, but even 1 didn't know they
were coming or for what purpose."

150 Don Callander

"And what was their purpose, can you guess?" asked
Wong, who was seated comfortably cross-legged on the
floor while the others chose low stools.

"They shouted 'Death to the foreign dog,' or words to
that effect, I'm told," said Foggery, sadly. Then his face
brightened.

"I've been urging various groups to resist the cruelties of
the leading Bureaucrats all about our countryside. Response
has been astounding," he added, glowing with enthusiasm.
"We've already set up a Civil Guard to protect our towns
and roads against the illegal private soldiery or to warn
victims to flee, at the least. One such patrol sent word to me
just in time to bolt my gates and be on guard this morning."

"Lucky for you those raiders didn't have sense enough to
use fire, rather than arrows and stones," said Bryarmote.

"It wouldn't have done them any good," said Douglas.
"When I saw the paper walls on our first visit, I wove a
Fire-Prevention Spell all about here."

"I have you to thank, then, Douglas Brightglade! That
explains why they bothered to haul up their precious artil-
lery,'* said Foggery, nodding his approval.

Flarman, who'd been absentmindedly shooing shards of
delicate pottery together and encouraging them to mend
themselves, said, "I see you were wounded, Captain
Foggery!"

"Just a scratch," protested the Seaman, but he allowed
Litholt to undo the makeshift bandage about his left ear to
examine the gash made by a flying rock. She quickly and
expertly cleansed and rebandaged it.

"It feels quite well already! Thank you. Mistress Wiz-
ard."

"Change the dressing tomorrow morning," instructed the
Geomancer. "After that the wound will be healed and no
damage done. Not even a scar, I guarantee."

"We fly on at once to Stony Gorge," declared Wong over
a light supper that evening. "But only if we know you will
be safe here for a few days, friend Foggery. What can we
do for you? Take you to safety?"

Ceomancer                  151

"No, no?" cried he. "Those professional soldiers were
minions of the Minister of Finance . .."

"Ah, Wong Ti Wang?" inquired Wong. "No relation of
mine, I hasten to add. Always was a scoundrel."

"Yes, a scoundrel and a monstrous thief While his sol-
diers were here trying to silence me, my new Sons of the
Soil were burning his country seat. If they succeeded, it
will drive Wong Ti Wang from the vicinity. He'll either
have to take to the field—which I don't see him doing; he's
too fat and it's too dangerous!—or retreat to Bee-Wing. He
doesn't dare to be cut off from the capital at this time, nor
to leave his bullies behind, either. We'll have no further
trouble from Wong Ti Wang. At least not here!"

Foggery insisted, now the local province had been organ-
ized into several tongs, or brotheihoods, things would be
quiet. The important action was shifting to the capital.

"I'll leave in a day or two to assist the new brotherhoods
in Bee-Wing province itself. If nothing else, they can give
us useful information on the various Bureaucrats' move-
ments and alliances."

Douglas nodded his understanding and admiration.

"But," he said, "you indicate you expect a full-blown
fighting war at any moment."

Foggery shrugged and smiled ruefully. "That's true, and
I don't see how we can avoid it, as long as the Ministers,
Princes, Imperial Uncles, and Nephews—and even sever-
al Imperial Nieces, too—insist on vying for the Dragon
Throne with armed force and secret murder. Our policy
for the moment must be to guard Choin's subjects from the
violence as much as possible, and gather information. Later
we plan to publish our joint selection of a candidate for
Emperor, within the old-time qualifications of both blood
and capabilities, if possible. When the right time comes,
that is."

Flarman and Lilholt had withdrawn through most of this
discussion, talking softly for some minutes. When they
rejoined the group at tea, Flarman clapped his hands for
attention.

Don Callander

152

"Litholt has a grand idea!" he announced. "No, we'll
say nothing just yet. When we return to Choin, we'll bring
it into play. Wong—you, Douglas, and I, with Litholt's
experienced assistance. Augurian and Mym, also. If all
goes well, it'll halt the war in a single move."

"Do it immediately'" urged Douglas. "The Stones and
Mym can wait, if they must."

'The scoundrels must be all in a single place, to make our
plan work," the Lady Geomancer said, shaking her head.
"Which means nothing can be done, just yet."

Though they pressed them for details, she and Flarman
refused to elaborate, saying that too many details had yet
to be worked out.

"I think I have a smidgen of an idea what you are think-
ing," claimed Douglas.

"Well, you know me better than most people, my son."
said Flarman with a chuckle. "I won't be surprised if this
has occurred to you, too. And to you, my dear Wong," he
added.

"I can't say that I have any idea." the Magician told him.
"But I'm content to trust your instincts and skills, Barman
Flowerstalk."

"As do we all," agreed Marbleheart.

"Foggery," said Flarman, "tell your people to continue as
you have planned. Try to keep the conflict from spreading
beyond the capital. We will return to Choin in a few days,
a week at most."

"We already trust in our Master Magician Wong and you,
Flarman Flowerstalk, you can be sure!" said the Seacaptain
gratefully, "More cardamom-sugar rice balls, anyone?"

Chapter Fifteen

<$>

Stormy Weather

WONG Tscha San stepped into Foggery's pleasant gar-
den for a quiet moment to consult the stars, but returned
hurriedly to say that a new problem was approaching.

"A great Sea storm is about to descend upon us," he
announced. 'The wind is already picking up and I see
lightning flashes out to Sea!"

"Oh, oh!" Douglas groaned. "We can't use the Feather
Pin until it passes. No protection from wind and lightning.
It's a grueling three-day flight to Valley in good weather,
as it is."

Flarman and Wong conferred with the Sea Otter to deter-
mine the extent and duration of the storm. Douglas. Litholt,
and the Dwarf helped Foggery and his crew complete repairs
to the red roof tiles. A pelting rain was beginning to fall and
a rising gale shook the paper-thin walls of the Choinese-style
house and bent the beautiful cherry trees in the garden almost
to the ground.

"I can tell you," Marbleheart said, "it'll be a whiz-bang
of a storm! On the Briney we call them hurricanes. This
one feels exactly the same, but from the opposite direction,
strangely."

'Typhoon, it's called, here," nodded Wong. "I recog-
nized the signs at once. Too strong for even our combined
powers to safely avert, Flarman Flowerstalk. All we can
do is practice patience and find shelter in which to wait
it out."

153

154 Don Callander

"How long do you think it'll last?" the Pyromancer
asked the Otter. He respected the animal's understanding
of weather. Only Bronze Owl was more accurate at weather
prognostication.

"If the storm's clear eye is close inshore? Perhaps a
day," Marbleheart considered, looking worried. "Otherwise
it could blow for as long as a week. Perhaps you can tell,
Magician?"

Wong closed his eyes and sat very still for a long while.
The others waited silently.

"It is obscured by its own tumult, but experience teaches
that such a typhoon will bring high winds and tides and a
deluge of rain for at least three days," he answered at last.

Lithott came up to them in time to hear this.

"I must use my own Teleporting Spell, it seems. We can't
abandon poor Mistress Mym any longer, even if she is able
to cope with her captors."

"It'll be very dangerous for you after all those years with-
out practice," Barman objected. "Perhaps ... if Douglas
and I coupled our spelling with yours—and Wong's, too—
we could generate enough power to get you to Stony Gorge
safely. It must be done within the hour, however. Such
storms are highly charged. Lightning is a terrible disrupter
of spells and fiercely resistant to a Pyromancer's demands."

"Let's do it," decided the Geomancer.

Douglas was reluctant. He felt he should be the one
to go to Mym, if anyone went. FIarman reminded him
that the Earth Wizard alone had the lore to dispel the
enchantment and gain the Water Apprentice's release from
captivity. Litholt must go at once, alone, despite the dangers
of distance and the wild weather.

"So be it!" the Journeyman agreed after a moment. "Give
Mym my love and tell her I'll be there as soon as the storm
abates."

The two Pyromancers, Journeyman and Master, joined
by the Choinese Magician, sat in a triangle about the Lady
Geomancer and began the difficult and demanding business
of interweaving their powers.

Geomancer                  155

The rest of the company sat well across the room about
a glowing charcoal brazier, breathlessly watching, listening
to the storm's increasing rage and bluster.

"I can manage shooting myself a hundred miles in an
instant with such a spell," Bryarmote whispered. "Flannan
taught me the trick years ago. But this will be thirty times as
far' That's the kind of power we're talking about here!"

Marbleheart, who was concentrating on the whirling,
swirling spell-words heard from across the room, made
no reply.

Foggery sat on a pillow, surrounded by his young men
and maidens in orange, looking greatly concerned and lis-
tening anxiously to the angry young typhoon outside.

"At least there'll be no battles fought as long as this
lasts," he muttered to the Dwarf over the tumult. "That's
a bit of a blessing!"

"As my good Lady Mother says," replied the Dwarf,
" * 'Tis an ill wind that blows no good.' "

"When the Lady Wizard is at last on her way . . ."

Litholt flashed from their sight.

There was a sharp clap as air rushed in to fill the void left
by her departure. All about the room lamp flames leaped
and fluttered wildly for a long moment.

"... we should seek safe refuge ourselves, preferably far
inland," finished Foggery.

"Preferably far underground," growled the Dwarf in
agreement.

Foggery knew the storm might completely destroy his
beloved home as no red-lacquered soldiery ever could with
puny arrows and stone-throwing machines. He rose and
calmly began gathering his followers and friends about
him, with instructions ready on what to do, wear, expect,
and where to go.

Less than a quarter hour later the villa, with stout wooden
storm shutters tightly closed, stood empty.

They fled the coastal plain that very night, soaked by
sheets of warm rain and buffeted by insane winds. The

156 Don Callander

retired Seacaptain led them into the low, limestone hills
a few miles to the south.

"Here are caverns enough even for a Dwarf," he said,
poking Bryarmote in the ribs.

"None too soon for me," growled the Prince of Dwelm-
land.

He was watching the approaching storm-wrack over his
left shoulder as they hurried along. Foggery's neighbors,
farmers and country craftsmen, had preceded them into the
hills, knowing from long, sad experience the best places to
shelter from a typhoon-

"Do you get anything from the Gorge?" Douglas anx-
iously asked Barman as they walked.

"No! I find the ether between us clogged with lightning
and thunder. Don't worry, m'lad! She'll be safe. Both Lady
Wizards, I mean. Our spelling was powerful and clear.
Litholt made it to the High, at least, I'm confident."

The Journeyman hunched his shoulders against the rain
stabbing him in the back right through his coat and shirt.
He tried to concentrate on keeping his feet on the slip-
pery path.

Twenty weary miles later Bryarmote unerringly pointed
the way to the low, wide entrance to a great limestone
cavern under the low coastal hills, large enough for them
all—several hundred people by then—to find dry shelter.

Marbleheart and Douglas went about setting campfires
to warm and dry the refugees. Flannan and Wong began
piling up food drawn magically from the stores at deserted
Bureaucrats' castles and fortresses throughout the area.

Soon all was quiet, except for the drumming rain and
shrieking wind and the distant roar of tremendous surf
pounding unmercifully at the Choin coast, felt as much
as heard through thirty mites of shore.

Wong sat gazing calmly into their campfire near the cav-
ern mouth. Flarman. Douglas, and Marbleheart sat nearby,
but said nothing to disturb his meditation. Bryarmote had
gone exploring deeper into the cave, satisfying his Dwarfish

Geomancer                 157

curiosity and love of the underground. There seemed little
else to do.

"Flarman Flowerstalk," said Wong, suddenly, "it seems
to me this storm is not entirely a natural phenomenon."

"But you said such typhoons were fairly common here,"
protested Douglas.

"Wait, laddie," cautioned the older Pyromancer. "Hear
him out!"

"Thank you, Fire Master," said the tiny Magician, sitting
up straighter. "I have sensed a hidden presence in this
storm. An emanation I have not felt for hundreds of years.
Darkness seems in the center of it all. . ."

"Yes, by Tophet! You're absolutely right, Master Wong!
It's faint—but only because it surrounds itself with multiple
lightnings, thunderings, and terrible constant winds. Now
that it is passing over us its stench remains in the air."

Douglas strained across a thousand wavelengths of sen-
sation, sampling emanations and disturbances brought to
him by light, heat, smell, texture, movement, sound, and
the subtler forces of the innermost and outermost regions
of World.

Very faintly he caught a strange, uneasy mood, what
Flarman had referred to as a stench, although it wasn't
really an odor. It was like a tiny, incredibly black hole
in time and space, a state of un-being, spinning at a tre-
mendous rate, pulsating like the panicked heart of a rabbit
waiting in dead-sure dread for the stooping hawk.

As he examined it he felt it grow larger, slowly, until
he might almost describe it as the size of a fist clenched
tightly with tension and menace.

"I think I sense what you mean," he murmured to the
Wizard. "Black emptiness. Right from the heart of the
storm's eye, I believe."

"Good lad!" Flarman exclaimed. "Yes, that's it! Haven't
heard or seen or felt that.. . whatever it is ... for three
hundred years...."

"You mean Darkness?" sputtered Marbleheart, horrified
yet filled with curiosity.

Don Callander

158

"Exactly!" breathed Wong softly. "I never have seen—
heard—felt it so close before. It terrified a lowly Assistant
Magician once. It frightens me even more now. Master
Wizard!"

"Well it should," said Flarman grimly.

"What does it mean?" gasped the Otter, who had caught
a comer of the Darkness from Douglas's mind, just at that
moment.

"What can we do?" asked Douglas at the same time.

Flarman began to draw circles and triangles in the fine,
white sand of the cave floor, carefully but quickly.

"These are secret charms and wards," he said, rubbing the
symbols away, smoothing the sand with both hands, then
beginning again. "Help me now, Journeyman! I need a bet-
ter grasp of the Outrider's strength, position, and purpose."

For an hour the three magickers and the Familiar huddled
about the sand drawings, muttering strange words, intoning
low-voiced, frightened chants that, fortunately, only they
could hear. Drawing and redrawing the circles, triangles,
rhomboids, pentagrams, rectangles, sine curves and twisted
ovals of infinity, they smoothed them away once again, and
began again.

"Well!" said Flarman sharply, after what seemed to be
days and nights of struggle.

He fed twigs to their dying fire. Around them the storm
refugees had settled down to sleep, to await the passing of
the shrieking wind and the roaring rain.

"Well?" the Pyromancer repeated. "We were lucky, I
guess."

"It's gone?" asked Marbleheart. "Are we safe?"

"Feel for yourself," suggested Douglas, rubbing his wea-
ry eyes.

"I don't feel anything," agreed the Familiar, much
relieved. "It's either deeply hidden again or it's departed.
Which is it, Magister? It's important to all of us to know."

Said Flarman, "What do you think. Journeyman? If you
aspire to Mastery, you must have an idea of what has passed
over us just now."

Geomancer                  159

Douglas closed his eyes to aid in concentration, and
began to speak slowly, feeling his way.

"It was not full Darkness, I gather. A probe, perhaps.
Attracted by the rumors of chaos and tragedy from the
bloody-minded ambitions and cruel slayings here in Choin."

"The Darkness was always deeply interested in Choin,"
agreed Wong, opening his eyes just then. "When it first
struck a thousand years ago, Choin was too well governed
by good and able men, too strong for it to attack directly.
Or so I was taught by my own Masters."

"That's how I see it, also," Flarman agreed. "Go on,
Journeyman. You have it right, so far."

"It—the Outrider, did you call it?—stirred up the great
storm to cover its spying. It sought to discover if it might
be time, perhaps, to spend greater power on Choin; if
the—chaos is all I can name it—is enough to allow it
to seek control of Empire as it once tried to snatch Old
Kingdom."

"As I think, too," said the Pyromancer.

"But its own storm blinded it to our presence—yours
and mine and Wong's, I mean. It didn't sense us until it
had passed close overhead. It felt us just when we felt it."

Flarman spread his arms and Wong bobbed his head
several times.

"And it passed back out to Sea at once, having been—
affrighted, perhaps? Surprised?—by the presence of our
powers, and our awareness of it," finished the Journeyman
Wizard. "It fled from us! As far as I can see, it has departed
into the far Northlands."

"Yes, we were lucky! Lucky to be here at all, and to
present it with a sharp pause to its evil, deadly desire for
poor Choin," said Wong. "I am grateful for you, Flarman,
and Douglas, and you, Marbleheart. If it had come when
I was alone in my ignorance and weakness it would have
flung me aside like a bit of froth on the wavetop. It or
its Dark Masters would have soon captured or suborned
someone or some group and remolded Choin into its own,
dark shape. Choin would have become the new battleground

160 Don Callander

of Darkness, as Old Kingdom once was. And been all but
destroyed, as was unhappy Old Kingdom, even in victory!"

"No doubt of that'" cried Flannan. "The lesson to be
learned is this: we Wizards must be eternally vigilant if
we're to preserve freedom and keep the peace!"

He pulled his blanket about his shoulders and squirmed
one hip into the sand to make a shallow groove to rest it
in, preparing himself for sleep-

"Well, yes, we were lucky. But we were also prepared
and well skilled. That the three of us could have shooed it
off at all tells us its power is still a tiny fraction of what it
once commanded. In earlier times it would have attacked
us on first contact," he muttered-

"What in World is this Darkness thing?" Marbleheart
whispered to Douglas as they settled down, also-

"A most difficult question. Familiar. In the first place,
it's not of this World. It comes from some extremely dis-
tant Elsewhere—sent or driven away, we don't know. It
feeds and grows strong on its victims' wickedness, the
unthinking foolishness and greed and cruelty of Mortals
and Near Immortals to each other. When we offer them
such sustenance. Darkness comes among us and eventually
rules us by our own weaknesses."

"You're frightening me, dear Master!" shuddered the Sea
Otter, pushing hard against the Journeyman's thigh under
his blanket.

"Don't be too frighted," murmured Douglas, half-asleep.
"Remember the word Flannan just used: vigilance. As long
as the Fellowship of Wizards is basically good-hearted,
brave, kind, honest, sensible—as the overwhelming major-
ity of us Men, Elves, Dwarfs and Fairies are—we'll never
be conquered or enslaved by Darkness. So go to sleep. It's
easier to be honest and good-hearted and sensible when
you've had a good night's sleep."

To his own surprise, Marbleheart fell immediately to
sleep, cuddled against his Master's back. Wong slept sitting
cross-legged yet completely relaxed. Flannan snored for a
while, then turned more on his stomach and slept silently.

Geomancer                  161

Bryarmote, returning from his exploration, smiled fondly
at them all and looked about for a smooth stone to use as
a pillow.

Then he, too, slept.

A cool autumn rain fell on Valley, swelling the little
pasture runs to overflowing. Pleased to be once more too
wide for the shepherds to jump, they skipped excitedly
down to find Crooked Brook, on their way picking up
the fallen poplar, birch, sugar maple, and willow leaves,
until in places their waters seemed plated with copper or
gold. The water of Crooked Brook then became what the
Fairies called Brook Tea. Black where the stream was deep,
amber as good beer in the shallows. Crooked Brook foamed
around rocks and bubbled about the jet ofAugurian's Foun-
tain, just downstream from Wizard's High, before it and its
burden of leaves dashed off to race merrily under the stone
span of Trunkety Bridge. After that it slid along quietly
through the smooth, deep stretch above Perthside, merging
at last with salty Farango Waters.

This scene was placidly surveyed by Bronze Owl, who,
untroubled by the damp chill, swung on his nail in the middle
of the great double front door of Flarman's cottage. Every-
one else, that late afternoon, was within, gathered around
me blaze in the Dwarf's Stone Fireplace, Bryarmote's pride
and joy.

Blue Teakettle flopped her lid and burbled, peacefully
napping on the back of Range. Salt and Pepper whispered
and giggled together in the center of the great table. They
were constant companions, seldom apart.

A long, lean Pushbroom, interrupted in its task of clean-
ing the kitchen yard by the coming of rain, leaned comfort-
ably against the broom closet door, playfully teasing old
Sugar Caster, who was concerned that the damp would cake
his contents and clog his holes. Sugar Caster was something
of a hypochondriac.

Pert and Party catnapped on either side of Black Flame,
but the torn, at least, was alert, although purring contentedly

Don Callander

162

for the ladies' comfort. They deserved their rest, as the last
of their most recent litters had been found happy and com-
fortable homes in Valley farmhouses and village kitchens or
as mousers on Duke Thomwood's ships out of Westongue.

In Hutch, a great, heavy cupboard made of mellow old
walnut planks an inch thick, a gay young blade, a Paring
Knife, flirted with abrasive old Sharpener, promising her
they could really make sparks if he rubbed her the right
way. Sharpener scoffed at the blade's blandishments, say-
ing, "Oh, you'll be dull and useless again in a few days,
Beau. Then you'll come running to me for a stroke or two,
I know."

"But, my darling," protested Paring Knife, stiffening in
pretended umbrage, "I'm not that sort! Believe me!"

If a whetstone could snort, this one would have, but just
then their attention was distracted by one of the Bread Pans
on the sideboard near the stove, who began to croon softly,
calling to Blue Teakettle and saying, "Oh, Kettle dear, will
you knead us!"

"Who needs you?" sniffed a muffled voice from within
a large, stoneware bowl covered with an embroidered dish
towel. "Let poor Teakettle have her nap."

"I'll knead you. Dough," offered Butter Chum, unctuous-
ly- "And later you'll need me, after you've baked well."

"ShhhhhhF hised Blue Teakettle, wakening abruptly.
"Get ready, all' Someone's coming!"

Owl was surprised by a sharp and quite close-by clap
of thunder, but thought nothing more of it than to say to
himself. Thunder's unusual in autumn showers, isn't it?

Shortly after, however, he jerked to full attention, rattling
his wings in surprise. Crossing the ancient plank bridge
from Priceless's neat rows of apple, crabapple, and peach
trees, he spied someone coming along at a brisk pace,
cowled head bowed to the raindrops, straight for the cot-
tage gate.

"Ho, a visitor!" Owl called to those within, and a moment
later he was joined by Black Flame, who pushed one of the

Geomancer                  163

door leaves ajar to come and see for himself.

"A lady, I see," murmured Owl. Black Flame nodded
calmly and glanced at the bird for a moment.

"Not just any sort of woman, however? Yes, I agree,"
replied Owl.

The traveler hesitated at the gate, studying the house and
its surroundings with lively interest from under her hood.

"Come up, ma'am!" Owl called, fluttering noisily from
his nail toward the gate. "Welcome to Wizards' High!
Come right in out of the rain and chill."

The amber-haired woman in slate gray hood and cloak
opened the rickety gate and approached, first carefully clos-
ing the gate behind herself.

"Sign of good breeding," Owl muttered to the cat. "Closes
gates without being asked!"

'This is the home of Flarman Flowerstalk, I see," said
Limolt Stonebreaker to Bronze Owl. She showed no sur-
prise at all to be speaking to a metal bird. "How fortunate
for me! For a moment I thought I'd lost my way."

"This is Wizard Flannan's cottage," replied Owl. "I am
Harman's doorknocker, adviser, and friend. I'm also in
charge here in his absence, so I invite you again to come
within to dry and warm yourself. It will be night before
long."

"I am Litholt Stonebreaker," the Lady Wizard introduced
herself.

"Ah, I've heard of you!" Owl cried, genuinely pleased.
"Last I heard, Flarman and Douglas and the others had
found you in the middle of a desert."

"Correct, friend Owl. And I am on my way . . ."

"Come in, please, ma'am! No need to stand in (he drips
from the thatching," interrupted Owl. He led the Lady
Wizard past the empty front parlor, down the center hall
past the sweeping curved staircase into the big, brightly
lighted kitchen.

"Ah, just as I heard!" cried Litholt, striding at once to
the Dwarf's Fireplace. "A marvelous stone construction,
thisi Made of lovely stones and powerful and everlasting

164 Don Callander

magic as only a Dwarf Prince could do. I adore it!"

"Yes, I remember now," said Bronze Owl, perching on
a handy chair back. "You're a Geomancer. A lover of fine
stone and stonemasonry."

'The wonderful, marvelous stones here will help restore
to me the powers I must have to continue my journey to
assist the Apprentice Mym Manstar!" explained the Geo-
mancer, running her hands lovingly over the craftily cut and
closely fitted stones. "Stones like these are as life's blood
to an Earth Adept, you must realize."

"Make yourself right at home," Owl invited politely.
"And when you've imbibed what you need from the stones,
come and have supper as only Blue Teakettle can prepare,
before you go flying off again. Mistress Mym would be the
first to recommend it, I know well."

He fully understood what the Lady Wizard's mission
must be.

"Have you the proper warming spells?" Owl asked Litholt
a bit later, after she was seated at the table before a hearty
supper of golden waffles with maple syrup and butter, spicy
sausages, strawberry jam and peach butter (always a great
favorite with Geomancers, because of the stones), with
strong black coffee—just as Geomancers like it. Somehow
Blue always knew.

"My spells were rather rusty, just now," she replied to the
Owl's question. "Both from long disuse, you understand,
and because of the buffeting I suffered at the hands of the
great storm at Sea. Fair stripped my repertoire of everything
useful, I'm afraid, which is why I unwillingly landed so
short of Stony Gorge."

"Better stay here tonight, then," Owl urged. "Plenty of
room here at the High, Mistress Wizard. Rest and a couple
of Blue's good meals will do wonders for recouping your
magic, as well. You'll need all your wit and craft to break
the Stone Warriors free, if what Douglas tells me is true."

Said Litholt, "Yes, I am weary and a good night's sleep
is certainly what I need. Thank you for your kind offer,

Geomancer                  165

Bronze Owl! In the morning I'll ask you to speak precisely
of the location of this Gorge where Douglas's fiancee is
being held hostage."

"I'll draft you a map showing all I know of it," promised
Owl, "while you bathe and get some sleep."

Black Flame, ever protective of Wizards no matter their
gender or specialty, showed the weary Geomancer to a
comfortable guest room above stairs.

Owl summoned Deka the Wraith, who came after a
short wait.

"Hail Bronze Owl of great beauty and wisdom!" she said
in greeting when she'd materialized into the soft candle-
light- "How may I serve?"

"We're certainly overtaxing your willingness to serve
these days. poor Deka," commented Owl, waving her to
a seat near the fire.

"No more than I'm pleased to serve," she answered with
a curtsy.

"You appear a bit ruffled, if I may say so," observed
the bird.

"I've just been battling a monstrous atmospheric dis-
turbance," the Wraith explained. "It delayed my arrival by
almost a minute'"

"Not so much as to be noticed, however," soothed Owl.
"Rest a few minutes here. When you're prepared to go on
again, I must send messages to Mistress Mym and Master
Augurian, this night."

"The storm is to the south of here," Deka reassured him.
"I can leave at once, of course."

"Have some lemonade," Owl offered. Pitcher, filled with
tart-sweet misctywine just as the Wraith loved it, appeared
right on cue. "And listen carefully to my messages."

Deka popped through from some unknown Otherworld to
the Stones' Column in time to hear Detritus shouting from
his door yard.

"Miserable, useless, indolent, procrastinating woman
Wizard! How long will you delay and betray us? We

166 Don Callander

will be freed of the curse of Obsydion, or we will bring
dire havoc on Men everywhere we find them!"

Deka cocked her head to one side and decided Detritus
was performing a ritual of some sort, of obscure signifi-
cance. Certainly his feeling didn't match the furor of his
words.

"You make a great deal more noise than you do sense,
Rocky," said Mym in a conversational tone. "Oh, hello,
Deka! Don't pay any attention to the Chief of Stones there.
He's doing it all for political show."

"Me? Show!" howled Detritus, coming across the square,
curious despite himself to hear the Wraith's message.

"Well, you were," said Mym firmly. She and all the
Stones had heard his tirade a hundred times in the past
three days. "And I understand it, too. But a few more hours
or days will not harm you or your people."

The Stone giant opened his mouth to hurl a stinging retort
but Deka, with consummate timing and tact, announced that
she brought word from Bronze Owl of Wizards' High. The
Stone Chief swallowed in his pro forma ire to listen.

"So this Geomancer will be here tomorrow, sometime?"
asked Mym when she had heard the words Owl had sent.
"Good news, Detritus, old rockhead!"

"I'll believe it when I see this rock Wizard of yours.
Another woman! What sort of trick is that, I ask you?"

"I am a woman Wizard, too, I'll remind you," said Mym,
near the edge of her great patience. "And as good as any
you'll ever find, I do assure you."

The giant retired hastily to his hut muttering to him-
self.

"What do they need huts for?" Mym whispered to the
Wraith. "They never sleep or eat, and the cold and snow
don't bother them at all."

"I suppose like all creatures they need to be alone at
times," replied Deka with a wan smile.

"Oh, poor Deka! We've been keeping you shooting back
and forth like a shuttlecock! Please stay awhile and talk to
me. I'm nearly starved for news and companionship."

Geomancer                  167

"You don't happen to have any lemonade, do you?"
asked Deka with a brighter look. "Yes, I'll stay as long
as you like, unless I'm summoned."

The two old friends. Apprentice Wizard and Wraith,
chatted of anything at all that came to mind, as long as
it wasn't stones or rocks or dead Wizard's enchantments.

Mostly they talked of weddings.

Chapter Sixteen

^

The Disspelling

STONY Gorge at that time of year hardly ever saw direct
sunshine. The days were getting shorter and shorter, the sun
rising only part way toward the zenith before sinking back
under the horizon again. The skies were overcast, promising
more snow at any moment and frequently delivering.

The dimness and drab colors got on Mym's nerves more
than anything about her voluntary captivity. She had the
choice of flitting off to the nearest friendly habitation of real
people—in this case. New Land and Serenit's house—or
doing something to make her surroundings more bearable.

Two days before Deka's evening visit the Apprentice
Aquamancer experimented with superheated steam jetting
from one of the largest geysers in the valley. She enclosed
a great cloud of the almost invisible gas in a globe of
cooler mist, and sent it floating over the village square like
a second moon, aglow brightly blue with its own heat.

Detritus and a number of other Stones, including several
of the Stone women who seldom were seen out of doors,
rushed out of their huts and stood gawking at the strange
sight, wondering at the sharp shadows it cast on the vil-
lage walls.

After a quarter hour the steam cooled enough to lose its
incandescent glow, the surrounding globe warmed enough
to turn to mist itself, and the whole thing collapsed in a
torrential shower of warm water that rinsed all the dirty ice
and snow from the village roofs and streets, making them

169

170 Don Callander

gleam in the wan light filtering through the low clouds.

It reminded Mym of her laundering of Pfantas some
months before, but the final result was not gratitude from
the citizens, but flinty looks from the populace as a whole
and snarls from Detritus.

"I know you did that. Wizard!" he cried. "Where is our
soft and fragrant rock dust?"

"I was not about to deny it," said Mym, primly. "I think
your gritty, grimy streets and rooftops are much more pres-
entable, now they are clear of that ratty old snow. Why,
some of it must have been there for hundreds of seasons!"

"Exactly!" snarled the Chief with a terrible scowl. "It was
our ice and our decoration and you had no right. - ."

"Oh, Rockhead!" laughed the Apprentice. "You are an
absolute pill!"

Detritus went storming off—mostly for show, she had
long since figured out—and missed the scene, a few min-
utes later, when the ladies of Stony Gorge emerged quietly
from their huts armed with stiff heather-twig brooms. They
swept the last remaining ice and snow from their flag-
stone walkways, and scrubbed their stone stoops, studiously
avoiding direct glances at the Wizard on the Column.

"Huh!" snorted Mym. 'That's interesting. Stone house-
wives are just like housewives anywhere!"

The experiment with the steam geyser prompted her to
more creative hydro-engineering. Most of the very hot water
spewed forth by the geysers—there were, she counted, 120
that erupted at least once an hour, or even more often—
seeped back into the ground almost immediately or ran off
down the vale and under the great iron gates.

Carefully maneuvering loose boulders that had long ago
rolled down the Gorge hillsides, she constructed a large,
shallow basin below the village and into it channeled a
portion of the steaming water.

In a few hours she had created a circular pond fifty feet
across, and five feet deep in the center. From its surface rose
lazy tendrils of steam, which, when they hit the cold rocks

Geomancer                  171

all about, froze into splendid, lacy ice-crystal flowers.

The pure white flowers were very pretty, with no two
quite alike, and Mym was justly proud of her inspiration.
Detritus angrily ran to the pool side and began stomping the
blooms into icy dust, roaring his frustration all the while.

He gave it up when he noted a group of Stone wives
standing nearby, shaking their heads in regret and their fin-
gers in disapproval. He retreated hastily to his hut, throwing
hard glances at the Apprentice, who was now busy intro-
ducing subtle pastel colors to the newer crystal flowers,
lending a festive atmosphere to the shore garden about the
pond's margin.

The Stone wives quietly nodded their approval. It had
been a very long time since they had seen anything as
beautiful. Later, when Detritus did not reappear, a number
of Stone Warriors came gravely to admire the new garden
with their ladies.

Later in the evening Mym noticed a number of Stone
children—the first she had seen since arriving—wading
and splashing in the cooling waters of the pond, getting
much quiet pleasure out of falling flat on their backs in the
shallow water to see who could make the biggest splash.

Detritus ignored their play.

Their mothers watched from their hut doors and gossiped
back and forth across the stone fences between their tiny
yards. The village took on a much more neighborly feel
with that—and the pond and the ice flowers stayed.

Some of the children walked casually past the column the
next morning, looking with frank childhood curiosity at the
pretty Wizard and the tented pavilion Douglas's magic had
provided to keep the snow off the column top. They smiled
shyly when the Water Adept caught their admiring glances
at the sumptuous furs that kept her warm and cozy despite
the wintry wind and heavy overnight snowfall.

"You know," she called to the youngsters, "I bet I can
guess something. I guess, even though they are made of
stone. Stone Warriors don't really like being cold all the
time!"

172 Don Callander

The children clattered away at once, trying very hard
not to giggle. Later the older ones returned and asked her
politely if she would tell them a story from History, such
as their parents had heard retold by their Chief.

She invited them to sit around the column—on the
side away from the Chief's hut—and quietly described
to them Wizards' High and Valley of Dukedom, then
distant Waterand Isle and Warm Sea. Closer to home, she
explained what Serenit was doing in New Land now that
Eternal Ice was withdrawing northward.

They were fascinated by the splendors of Bryarmote's
rock-hewn, underground Dwelmland. By the following
evening, as Mym waited for the Geomancer to arrive,
virtually every child and young person in Stony Gorge came
to listen to her tales of the unknown outside World. ...
Beyond the Ice, as they termed it.

Their mothers and fathers watched and listened from their
front stoops- Detritus, who loved stories as much as any
of them, leaned over his front wall, taking it all in while
pretending to ignore everything, especially Mym.

When she had sent the children off to their play, Myrn
prepared to study for a while from several of the big, old
books Augurian had forwarded to her from Waterand. Only
then did a quiet and subdued Detritus approach the chair.

"Mistress," he began, "I have had enough! No more
tantrums' No more cursing and ranting. This curse can no
longer be endured. If your Geomancer isn't here by noon,
tomorrow, I must put you on ice in a place from which
you'll never find your way home, and I will lead my warri-
ors against First Citizen Serenit, capture or slay his follow-
ers, and destroy all the things they are so proud of doing!"

He said no more, shouted no longer, appearing sad rather
than angry, and went into the Meeting Hall, where he was
joined after a while by the tribal Elders.

"Oh, dear, I'm afraid he really means it this time!"
sighed Mym.

She thought of calling Augurian, but decided against it.
If the Lady Geomancer came in time, things would shortly

Geomancer                 173

sort themselves out. If not, she had some ideas on how to
stop Detritus and distract his Warriors.

In preparation she spent the evening scooping fist-sized
balls of hot water from the pond and whirling them about
her head until they froze into balls of slush.

These she accurately hurled—assisted by a Levitation
Spell Douglas had taught her—to the lower end of the
Gorge, where they splashed against the inside of the iron
gate.

Before she quit and crawled into her fur-lined nest to
sleep, the gate was frozen tight shut by the freezing slush.
As the nighttime temperature in the Gorge dropped well
below zero, the ice hardened like the iron itself. Only heat
would unlock the Gorge Gate after that.

Eariier that evening Litholt had stopped to speak with
Serenit at his lodge- The former Ice King greeted her shyly
but as a long-lost friend—he now remembered her from
the days before Last Battle in Old Kay—and insisted she
spend the fast-approaching arctic night at his pleasant rus-
tic home.

Litholt was happy to rest for a while. She was fascinated
with the glacial valley, carved from hard, blue granite over
tens of thousands of years, forming the wide, perfectly flat
bottom and perpendicular sides.

A heavy overnight snowfall slowed them down when
they set out to walk to the Face the next morning. Litholt
wanted to conserve her Wizardly power as much as pos-
sible, knowing she would need every bit when it came to
addressing Obsydion's spell- She couldn't afford to expend
even a small part on flying or teleporting.

Bundled warmly against the intense cold, she followed
Serenit up the twisted and uneven pathway to the Face, said
good-bye and thank you. and levitated herself up and over
the river of ice, then followed its gently curving northward
course until she came to its end at Gorge Gate.

"Aha!" she snorted, recognizing the ancient Geomancer's
handiwork in the iron gate as clearly as if he'd signed

174 Don Callander

his name to it. When she attempted to swing the heavy
leaves open, however, she discovered Mym's frozen slush
barricade.

"Clever Water Adept!" she chuckled.

She left the icy barrier in place, and sailed gracefully over
the gate by her own magic.

She glided swiftly up the narrow Gorge, admiring the
geothermal fountains and pools and naming the rock for-
mations on either hand as if they were old friends. When
she came to Mym's pond, now with a thick layer of clear
blue ice over most of its surface, she recognized it as
Aquamancer's work, too.

Mym and the Stones saw her coming almost as soon
as she had appeared over the gate, and by the time she'd
skimmed over the pond, where a few Stone children were
already experimenting with ice skating, a large crowd of
older Stones stood in silence in front of the Meeting Hall,
watching her approach and looking both fearful and hope-
ful.

The stranger could only be the long-promised Stone Wiz-
ard.

"Good morrow!" Litholt called politely -

They murmured solemn greetings and bowed in return.

"Good morrow, Earth Adept!" came Mym's softly car-
rying voice. She floated down from the Column and ran to
meet the new arrival- "Welcome to Stony Gorge, although
it should be the Chief to say it, not I."

The Stones nodded agreement and turned to stare stoni-
ly at the Chief's door. He was nowhere to be seen or
heard.

'T suspect he's rather ashamed of himself and the
way he's doubted us," Mym explained, giving the old-
er woman a warm hug. "It's so good to meet you,
Mistress Stonebreaker! Douglas sent word of you and
how surprised he was to find another Lady Wizard in
World."

"I hope you aren't jealous of me," said Litholt seriously,
"No need, I sincerely assure you. You are a famous Wizard

Geomancer                  175

even before your Journeying, my dear."

"Nonsense! There can't be too many female Wizards
for my money. We've all got a lot to do, and the Wizard
menfolk, however hard they try, need a woman's touch and
viewpoint- Don't you agree?"

"Yes, indeed I do!" cried Litholt, and the two hugged
each other again, laughing together like old friends.

"Nor would I ever do without them," added Litholt. "I
like them very much, even Serenit, now that he's come
to his good senses. He was always rather somber, intense,
and withdrawn in the bad old days. Flannan was my very
favorite magic maker. Your own Master Augurian himself
came courting me once. He was so very serious. So solid
and dependable!"

"Augurian?'1 cried Mym. "I would never have believed
it! About his courting a Lady, I mean."

"Oh, yes! And a most handsome suitor, too, although
much too shy. Those were our halcyon days! The descent
of Darkness began just then and all such pleasant pastimes
ceased, I'm sorry to say. We were much younger then, and
fighting a supremely deadly foe seemed more important
than love and marriage. Which is one reason I am so
pleased to leam that you and young Douglas are pledged
to be married."

"You approve? I'm quite relieved, to tell you the truth.
Some might say that a Water Adept wife would dampen a
Fire Wizard's way."

"No, you won't stand in his way." replied Litholt, seri-
ously. "We found out the hard way, way back then. Love
is more important than any kind of power! Remember that,
Mistress Mym."

"I remember it every day," the Water Adept assured her
new friend with a grave nod.

"Now, to begin with,'* said Litholt Stonebreaker to Mym
and the assembled company of Stones, "I'll need answers to
a few basic questions from someone who was present when
this wicked spell was cast. How about your Chief?"

Don Callander

176

"I'll call him out, if you wish," said Dolomit the Hardy.
"However, a number of us here were present that night."

He pointed out Storyteller in the back of the crowd. Of
all the Stones, he had been the first to speak to Mym kindly
and had listened to her stories and histories most closely,
committing them to his remarkable memory.

"Storyteller, you were there when the Wizard named
Obsydion wove his Petrification Spell, were you not?"
Mym asked him.

He was surprisingly shy before the Lady Wizards.

"Aye, Mistress! I recall it perfectly well, every word
and gesture. As is my job, of course," answered the tribal
historian modestly.

"Then maybe you can tell me some things I need to know
to speed the disspelling," said Litholt, levitating to the top
of the Stone Column and drawing Mym with her so they
could see eye to eye with the giants.

"Willingly, Mistress'" said he, coming to the foot of the
Column. "Ask away! If anyone remembers that dire day,
it's me—Storyteller."

Litholt asked but three questions:

First: With which hand did Obsydion actually cast his
Petrification Spell?

His left. Storyteller said confidently.

Second: What was the color of the sky when he cast
the spell?

Black, recalled the Stone.

*' 'Twere midnight and raining hard and no stars or moon
shone through that night."

Third: Did Obsydion wear a robe when he cast the spell,
or was he clad in metal armor?

Storyteller thought about this question for a long while
before he answered.

"I can't be sure of that, as it was quite dark, but I think,
Mistress, that he wore both a black robe and silvery armor.
I distinctly recall the bright glint of metal up his sleeve
when he reached high up to hurl the spell onto us like a
thunderbolt."

Geomancer                 177

"Excellent, Storyteller! Exactly what I needed to know.
Silvery armor, you say? Well! Now all of you—Chief Detri-
tus, also—come sit before me where I can see you all while
I do my work. Yes, the young ones, too, and the babes."

The sullen, stubborn Chief had almost to be hauled by
force from the Meeting Hall where he had been hiding . ..
and listening. He was made to sit on the paving stones in
the middle of their half circle before the Geomancer,

"Now, dear children," she said, with a wink over her
shoulder at Mym, "it will help if you will remain quite silent
throughout. Try to recall what exactly you were doing, what
you wore, how you stood the moment the wicked Wizard
Obsydion enchanted you and imprisoned you here in Stony
Gorge under Eternal Ice."

The entire village, even the smallest children—who had
remained children for a thousand years—sat in stony silence,
frowning in concentration.

Litholt pushed up her sleeves, took a great breath, and
began.

It was midmoming when she spoke the first chantment.
Nobody moved or made a sound for hours and hours,
waiting for the first signs of disspelling to begin to show.

Myrn was somehow expecting spectacular fireworks, fly-
ing sparks, or, at the least, exotic rituals, but none were
forthcoming. She could, however, feel the climax of the
breaking enchantment in her fingertips and tingling toes,
as the sun slid toward the barren southwestern hills.

Litholt stood before them, looking calmly from one to
the next as if memorizing their faces, ending with Detritus,
without saying another word.

Yet, and yet.. . Myrn saw changes come over them.

Their flint-hard visages gently softened. Their faces,
deeply engraved by time and sadness or chiseled fine by
ten slow centuries, seemed suddenly more mobile, more
infused with warmth.

Detritus stirred first, raised his right hand and watched
his blunt, strong fingers move in fits and jerks. He examined
his newly pink fingernails and rubbed the stiff hair on the

178 Don Catlander

backs of his wrists against his square chin.

He struck his thigh hard with the palm of his right hand.
It made a loud, fleshly smack. In dawning wonder, he
watched the muscles ripple under the tanned skin of his
right forearm, as if he had just discovered muscles and
tendons and skin for the very first time ever.
Great, crystalline tears rolled down his cheeks.
Sobs of purest joy escaped his heaving breast. He buried
his now-ruddy face in hands of real Mortal flesh.

They all were shrinking. In a few moments, when Mym
jumped down from the pillar top and ran forward to greet
them and mingle her own tears with theirs in her immense
relief and delight, they were all once more of normal size
for ordinary Men. Tall and muscular, surely, but no stronger
or taller than they should have been.

No longer obdurate, everlasting blue gabro.
Obsydion's blackest magic was completely disspelled-

Marbleheart trotted in his rather comic gait up the last
slope to the cave mouth, beaming broadly and shouting
that the storm had passed. He'd made a trip alone to the
shore before dawn. Pelicans, petrels, and a few frigatebirds
confirmed his forecast. Fair, cooler, and light, dry winds.

"The sky at Sea is the most beautiful blue I've ever seen.
There are still huge combers breaking on the beach, but
the wind has shifted to the northeast and is moderating
quickly," he reported.

"Damages?" asked Foggery fearfully.

"Few houses have their roofs on, still," replied the Sea
Otter, accepting a cup of tea from one of Foggery's orange-
clad maidens. "Not many were actually destroyed, however.
They are more sturdily built than I thought, I guess."

"Typhoons are common on this coast, of course," said
Wong. "Roofs are easy to replace. Walls, less so. We Choin
learned long ago to build like that. The important thing is,
we seem to have lost few lives."

"I saw a number of corpses washed up where streams
had flooded," admitted Marbleheart somberly. "Most wore

Geomancer                  179

that hard leather armor the soldiers had on when your house
was attacked. Captain."

"Their officers were not quick enough or humane enough
to lead them to high ground," guessed Flarman. "Well,
Douglas, m'lad, it's a long, long trip to the Far Northland.
Shall we depart at once?"

"If we can do nothing further to help the Choinese, I am
ready," said Douglas.

"We're capable of picking up, burying the dead, and
carrying on," said Foggery. "Besides, this storm had one
good effect. It has given us a respite of at least a few days
from the Bureaucrats and their soldiers. The Bureaucrats
have all fled from their country houses to the capital, taking
their soldiery with them, I'm told. They'll leave us alone for
a good while and when they come back, our new militia will
be ready for them, with any luck."

"Marbleheart, Douglas and I will go as soon as we've
had some breakfast," decided the older Fire Wizard. "Will
you come or stay. Master Wong?"

"I have a date four days hence at Wizards' High," the
Magician reminded him gravely. "I understand that it can-
not be postponed."

"Yes, yes, the Examination!" cried Douglas. He'd for-
gotten it completely until that moment.

"It must be taken the night of an Equinox," Flarman
said. 'The next won't be for another six months, if we
miss this one."

"I'll stay here and help Foggery, if I can be of use," said
Bryarmote, to no one's surprise. He liked to be where the
action was. "Just send a note to my sweet bride and say I'll
be a little late getting home, won't you?"

, With just the four of them, and Flarman's intimate knowl-
edge of the workings of the Feather Pin, the return trip was
much faster than any previous flight.

"Wrap your faces in your cloaks," instructed Flarman as
they shot into the clear sky over the Choin littoral. 'That
way you will breathe easily and we can go twice as fast.'*

Don Callander

180

"Why didn't I think of that!" cried the Otter, burrowing
into Douglas's coat tail, as he had none of his own.

Where it had taken them three full days to cross Sea
between Choin and Dukedom before, now they were cir-
cling over Valley by noon of the second day.

"Need to check things at home," explained Barman, as
Douglas sent them into a shallow dive to land at the kitchen
door. "And a couple of hours of sleep if you want it."

"I'm ready to go on immediately," said Douglas.

"So be it," said the Fire Wizard. "You, Wong?"

"I will remain here," the Choinese decided. "There are
still a few Examination questions to be prepared, you'll
remember."

"Give me a half hour in my study," said Harman to the
Journeyman, "and we can go by Teleport Spell, my boy,
and be there in minutes, rather than hours."

'Time enough for lunch," declared Marbleheart, who
had been napping with his lithe body draped like a fur
boa about Douglas's shoulders all morning. He slid to the
ground, cuffed playfully at Black Flame when the cat came
to greet them, and added, "Wonder what old Blue Teakettle
has cooked up for us?"

"Your favorites!" cried Flannan, waving to Bronze Owl,
who had flown around the cottage from the front door at
the sound of their arrival. "Tuna salad! Anchovy pizza!"

When they entered the warm and savory kitchen, all
the utensils—Plates, Goblets, Knives, Forks and Spoons,
Platters, Sheers, Choppers. Graters, Griddles, Pots, Pans,
Trivets, Pot Holders, Shakers, and Spatulas—cheered lusti-
ly from every comer, shelf and cupboard.

The Otter reared to his hind feet to examine the broad,
crowded tabletop and said, in awe, "She's done it again!
How does she know?"

"Who's done what?" asked Douglas, seating himself at
his accustomed place and reaching for a pot of fresh may-
onnaise to spread on his new-baked white bread.

"Blue Teakettle! She's fixed lunch, and just what I was
craving, ready when we walked in unannounced, and for

Geomancer                  181

just the right number, too. Amazing!"

Blue Teakettle puffed in steamy pride at his sincere
compliments and made sure the Sea Otter had enough tuna
salad for a second and a third helping while Flannan went
off to recharge his teleporting batteries—as he put it—in
his study.

Bronze Owl was telling Douglas and Wong of the visit
from Litholt Stonebreaker.

"Obviously a great, remarkable Lady," was Owl's opin-
ion. "I admit to you that the idea of a female Wizard would
have seemed ... well, unusual, to say the least, if it weren't
for Mym."

"I understand that there were several other Lady Wizards
very long ago," the Journeyman told them. He stooped to
add a log to the fire in Bryarmote's great fireplace.

"Most of them are gone now," said Flannan, reluming
just then, beaming with the pleasure that only returning
to his beloved house after a long absence could bring.
"My own mother, bless her heart, was one of them, you
know."

"You never mentioned that!" exclaimed his former
Apprentice. "There is a lot I don't know about you even
now, Magister!"

"Gives you something to think ahead about, if you pass
your Exam," teased Flarman. "Yes, Mama was an old-
fashioned General Practitioner. In those days, not many
specialized as Augurian, Litholt, and I chose to do."

Chatting of Flarman's mother prompted Douglas to ask
him, privately, just before they started off again, "About
Mistress Litholt, Magister?"

"Yes, a lovely, wonderful woman! Great lady and highly
accomplished Wizard, too. I'm immeasurably pleased she's
gotten over her grief at the loss of her poor Cockerel. What
of her, lad?"

"I sense a... uh, well... an untold relationship between
you and Litholt," stammered Douglas.

"Maybe. Maybe not," said Barman with a low chuckle.
"I.mustn't tell you my whole history today, must I?"

182 Don Callander

And he would say no more, but drew a circle around them
in the dust of the path beyond the courtyard gate and made
a lifting, shooing sort of gesture.

There was a rush of air, a flash of bright light, and a
snap of displaced air.

"Here they are!" cried Mym excitedly, and she threw
herself into Douglas's outstretched arms and kissed him
eagerly and joyfully. "We were just wondering when you'd
be dropping in."

Litholt stood nearby with Storyteller and a much-subdued
Detritus, all beaming warmly.

"You've been restored, then!" exclaimed Douglas, rush-
ing to shake the Chief's hand. "I can't tell you how delighted
I am it's so!"

"And I," said the Stone Chief, his eyes still downcast,
"can't apologize long or hard enough to you for the way I
mistrusted you and your bride-to-be. I just couldn't believe
anyone would help us unless I forced them to it. You
must.. ."

"... do nothing at all except congratulate you," Douglas
finished for him- "Come and meet my Master! Hello, Story-
teller! Litholt Stonebreaker, ma'am, everyone looks just
great!"

The Geomancer gave him an auntlike kiss and a broad
smile when he thanked her for coming to Mym's assis-
tance.

"I imagine you'll find occasions to regret not being giants
of enduring stone," Marbleheart said to the tribesmen and
their women.

"Never!" they cried. "We've been stoned far too long for
regrets!"

"There are, however, a few problems yet to be ironed
out," put in the Geomancer after the new arrivals had
shaken hands with the entire village and patted the lively,
excited thousand-year-old children on their tousled heads.

"Let me see," said Marbleheart quickly. "Food, I sup-
pose. Not much of it here, is there?"

Geomancer                  183

"When we were stone," sighed Storyteller, "hunger and
cold never bothered us. But it's been a thousand years since
I had my last lunch and the cold of arctic wind is already
biting my fingers and toes severely, sirs."

"I can make it cozy as toast here in Stony Gorge,"
Flarman said. "And I think we can get some vittles sent
up, at once. Do I sense you don't wish to remain here in
this interesting Gorge, now that you are Men again?"

'Too cold! Too isolated!" agreed Detritus, and the vil-
lages chorused their agreement. "And too barren. Nothing
but Mistress Mym's beautiful ice flowers grow here, as you
can see, and they'd make poor eating, I fear."

With Douglas's help Flarman threw a blanket of clear,
warm air, imported from Warm Sea, over the whole Gorge—
somehow excepting the ice-flower garden—and a minute or
two later they conjured up a great pile of foodstuffs in the
center of the square, boxes, bales, bushel baskets, bundles,
and casks all neatly marked as to contents.

"Now, if you good Stone Ladies remember how to cook,"
Douglas said, "we can have a feast and be warm and cozy
while we discuss our next move."

"I've dreamed of cooking meals again for nine hundred
years," gasped one of the older women, clapping her hands
like a child. "I see beef and pork, turkeys and chickens,
flour and butter and splendid eggs! Eggs' Come, Ladies'
Let's show our gratitude to our wonderful Geomancer, to
the patient Mistress Mym, and their Wizard gentlemen by
preparing a Stone Warrior victory feast!"

As they went to work, Flarman spoke of professional
matters with Litholt, while Douglas told Mym of their
adventures in Choin, the typhoon, and how they'd dis-
covered a Darkness Outrider in the storm.

Marbleheart enthusiastically supervised the cooking until
he was good-naturedly shooed away by the village wives
for sampling the berry pies, marble cakes, and cookies too
liberally before dinner.

"Where shall we go, I wonder," asked Detritus of Mym
and Douglas. He had apologized again and again for his vile

Don Callander

184

temper, impatience, and unsuitable language. They smiling-
ly forgave him, again and again.

"I doubt my people will want me to remain as Chief."
Detritus said glumly.

"Why would they change?" wondered Myrn. "You
brought them successful relief from the spell, didn't you?
They must be very grateful for that."

"Well, perhaps you're right, although I did it rather poor-
ly, I think," said the Chief of Stones.

"Cross that bridge when you come to it," advised Douglas.
"For now, they seem quite content to follow your lead."

"Which brings us back to your question," said Mym. "I
have an idea."

'The same one I have in mind?" asked the bridegroom.
They knew each other very, very well.

Chapter Seventeen

<$>

Master's Examination

"WELL, I don't know ...," temporized Serenit. "I'd do
it for you. Master Flarman, and for Douglas, who has been
my mentor and adviser since I became -.. what I now am.
But these Stones are neither fanners nor lumberjacks, but
savage warriors...."

They had stopped at Serenit's lodge on their way home,
to offer him the Stones as settlers in New Land.

"Oh, come now. First Citizen!" exclaimed Mym rather
impatiently. "A new nation needs a few trained fighters
handy, just in case."

"And they'd come to you not just as warriors," Barman
pointed out. He took a bite of Clangeon's freshly made
bread, thickly spread with wild raspberry jam. 'They're
experts in quarrying and stonemasonry, as you might
guess. And they'll be very hard workers. They'll need
some polishing, of course. Some sophistication that a trusted
leader could give them."

"He means you, Serenit," said Douglas, clapping the
First Citizen on the back. "Beside, New Land needs hardy
settlers—tough, resourceful, and experienced in the wilder-
ness. The Stones are ideal for you!"

"And we're loyal and rock-solid honest," added Detritus.
"I personally guarantee it."

Before the tribesmen had marched out of Stony Gorge,
they'd unanimously reelected Detritus as their Chief. He

185

186 Don Callander

was beaming with pride and brimming with confidence
once more.

"Well. . ." Serenit still hesitated. "Your work will be
quite arduous. Very little glory in it for warriors."

"We learned patience well, while under Eternal Ice,"
insisted the Chief.

"For example, I need tons and tons of clean pea gravel
carried from the Face of Eternal Ice to build a breakwater
at Flarmanport. Ships must have a sheltered place to tie
up close inshore to take on cargoes of ice and timber.
Lightering in small boats is slow, dangerous, and very
expensive."

"We can build your breakwater before the first of spring
shipping arrives," Detritus promised. "We already know
where the very best pea gravel is. We'll tote it in bas-
kets if necessary! We'll even weave the baskets ourselves.
And cut great interlocking blocks of gabro for the mole's
facade."

"As a trial, then," agreed Serenit. "My older settlers have
worked for a year just to begin to make this empty, barren
land ready to bloom. They've put up with disappointments
and earned frustrations as their wages. I must be sure, you
understand, that new arrivals pull their weight."

The Stones' Chief agreed to a probationary period, after
which the hundred-odd citizens of New Land would vote
whether or not to accept them as naturalized citizens.

"A very good solution, I think," said Mym with satis-
faction.

"Now, what about our other problems?" asked Litholt.

"As I mentioned, I have a plan to settle things with
the Bureaucrats in Choin—enough to allow the sane and
sensible selection of a new Emperor," promised Flarman.
'Trust an old Firebreather! When we return to Choin, it will
take but a day or three to implement the Flowerstalk-Litholt
plan!"

"I trust you absolutely, my dear," laughed Litholt. "But
I was speaking rather of the Master's Examination, not of
Choin's empty Dragon Throne."

Geomancer                  187

"The day after tomorrow is Equinox, isn't it?" Mym
anxiously asked the Journeyman. "Are you ready?"

Douglas shook his head and said, "I guess I'm as ready
as I'll ever be."

Flarman rose from the table in Serenit's rambling stone-
and-log lodge, preparing to leave at once for home.

"I've taught you all I can," he sighed. "It's up to you
and your brain and your heart to finish the task, foster
son."

"Will Augurian come to the High, do you think?" Litholt
asked Mym. "I haven't seen him in over three and a half
centuries."

"He'll be there when we return." Mym assured her. "He
wonders if three centuries in a desert have changed you
much."

"A great deal... for the better, I hope," said the Geo-
mancer. "How shall we travel this time, Flarman? Feather
or spells?"

"Spelling, it must be," said the Pyromancer. "The Feather
Pin is too slow for the short time we've remaining before
the Examination must begin."

They said good-bye to Serenit, Clangeon, and their
New Landers, and went to take leave of the Stones.
The tribesfolk were busy building rounded stone huts
near the bank of the rushing, milk-colored stream, which
carried the glacial meltwater with its burden of rock
dust down to Sea. Serenit had proposed to name it
Brightglade River, and the sunken valley into which it
flowed Flarman Fjord.

"I'm flattered, of course," Douglas told Storyteller, "but
I gather the first settlers already call it New River, and the
long bay, Frigeon's Fjord. They do agree to Flarmanport,
however. I suspect their choices will stick, especially as
they're more appropriate."

'Time alone will tell," philosophized the tribal historian.
He proudly exhibited blisters and calluses on his hands
from his work.

188 Don Callander

"Been a mighty, mighty long time since I had a callus!'*
he cried. "And for them, I thank you. Wizards!"

"Let's go home, shall we?" asked Mym, eager to be
off.

And they hastened to join the others standing in Barman's
magic circle in the gravel beside New River, ready to take
them home to Wizards' High.

The day of the Autumnal Equinox dawned bright, cool,
and clear. The hint of fall in the air the Choin Magician
had enjoyed just two weeks before on his morning walks
had come to full realization.

The spring that gushed from under the High giggled
happily down its stone-lined channel past the byre, steam-
ing like Soup Pot in the chilly air- There was a smell
of burning leaves carried up from Trunkety on the brisk
breezes.

On the cottage's east-facing windowglass fantastic scenes
had been etched in hoarfrost overnight. Almost as Wong
studied those on his bedroom windowpanes, they began to
melt away under the first level rays of the sun striking over
distant Far Ridges.

"Most remarkable!" he exclaimed to Party. She had come
to waken him. "I must meet this Jack Frost elf one of these
days. He has a wonderful touch in a very difficult medium!
I wish he would work his designs in me most delicate Choin
porcelain, too!"

The little Magician finished dressing in his most magnifi-
cent gold brocade robe, slipping dainty gold sandals on his
tiny feet He regarded himself in the mirror for a moment,
then carefully put his flat, broad-brimmed black Hat of
Magicianship on his snow-white hair. The last thing he
did was carefully to comb his thin white beard and arrange
his long-drooping moustache.

From below stairs came a musical chiming. Blue Tea-
kettle was calling everyone to break their fast.

As he and Party gracefully descended the wide stair to
the center hall, the Choin Magician sniffed appreciatively

Geomancer                  189

the messages carried up to him by the warm air rising from
the kitchen.

"Hot coffee!" he said to Bronze Owl, who came along
just then. "Fragrant breakfast tea, too! And your marvel-
ous idea of toasted bread! I must introduce toast to my
people."

"What do you do with leftover bread, then?" asked Mym,
who was waiting at the foot of the stair for them.

"Soak it in chicken broth, perhaps, for lunch. Or sauces of
soy and chopped peanuts for breakfast," replied the Magi-
cian, smacking his lips at the memory. "Good morning,
Master Candidate! I trust you feel alert and well rested?"

Douglas bowed to him and gave Mym a morning buss
and hug. He shook his head.

"I lay awake half the night," he moaned. "I kept thinking
of things I didn't know."

"How can you think of something you don't know?"
asked Flarman reasonably, already seated at table with a
big. starched linen napkin tied about his neck. He spooned
steaming oatmeal into his bowl and crooked his forefinger
for Creamer, who slid nimbly into his outstretched hand.

"That's what kept me awake," admitted the Journeyman,
seating Myrn and dropping into the chair next to her. "If I
knew I didn't know it, then I could not have not known it,
I said to myself."

"I understand quite perfectly' But too late for regrets'"
said Flarman cheerily. "You'll do quite well, my lad! I
passed my Master's with flying colors, you know."

"Yes, on the third try," said a new voice, and Lady
Wizard Litholt. looking particularly beautiful after a good
night's sleep and a long, hot bath, swept into the kitchen.
The gentlemen rose to greet her but she waved them back
into their seats.

"I'll have a three-egg omelet with onions, cheese, and
ham," the Lady Wizard told Sugar Caster, who was taking
orders for breakfast. "Brown bread toast and strawberry pre-
serves with sweet butter. Oh, and a cup of the delicious tea
that I smell steeping in yon magnificent stoneware teapot."

Don Callander

190

Douglas toyed with his breakfast steak, his eyes unfo-
cused and distant.

"Are you all right?" whispered Mym, concerned, for he
was usually a wide-awake early-riser and a devotee of
hearty breakfasts.

"Just reciting the Gozintus to myself one more time,"
Douglas replied with a wry smile. "I couldn't be more
nervous if this were our wedding day!"

"Oh, yes, you could," she teased. "And will be, 1 guar-
antee!"

Marbleheart was banished from the Examination Room,
Flarman's comfortably cluttered, book-lined study. Famili-
ars are much too easily tempted to assist their Principals on
tough questions, Augurian ruled.

"But a Wizard is never separated from his Familiar! He
could be argued to be a part of the Wizard^s self," the Sea
Otter complained.

"By just being near, the rule makers felt, a Familiar
might project clues and hints to the Candidate, even without
intending to," countered Flarman firmly.

"But I've only been a Familiar for three months!" the
Otter protested.

"Out!" growled Augurian sternly. It was his task to
enforce the rules.

Flarman's task was to interpret them. He'd written most
of them in the first place, anyway.

"Break a leg!" Marbleheart called to Douglas as he
scampered out.

"A strange wish for his Candidate," whispered Wong to
Litholt.

"I believe it's an old superstition among strolling play-
ers," the Lady Wizard explained absently, flipping through
the pages of a thick, old book in front of her. "Some-
thing to do with reverse charming. Time to begin, gentle-
men!"

She would be the Examination timekeeper. The Examin-
ing Board originally was to consist of Flarman, Augurian,

Geomancer                  191

and Wong Tscha San, but the addition of Litholt allowed
Flarman to act solely as Chairman. As the Candidate's
Master, he wouldn't participate in the examining, other
than to rule on disputed points.

He felt both the better and the worse for it. He knew
he would be too emotionally involved in the Examina-
tion of his own Journeyman, which was bad, but he also
felt he should have a larger part in the actual question-
ing.

"This is, after all," Augurian said to him gravely, but
with an understanding twinkle in his eye, "a test of your
Mastery as well. You were his primary instructor in our
Craft."

"Well, yes, I suppose so," said the Fire Wizard with a
wistful sigh. "You're absolutely right, of course. What am
I worried about? The Candidate was the most remarkable
Apprentice and is the most resourceful Journeyman I've
ever known or heard about, present company not excepted.
He can't miss!"

"We shall begin, then," said Litholt, nodding to Flarman.

"Candidate is to present himself," announced Flarman
in a loud voice, rapping on the table with an old wooden
mallet he'd brought from his Workshop.

The door opened and Myrn ushered Douglas in. She
touched his hand for a brief moment, then slipped quiet-
ly out to take a long walk down Crooked Brook toward
Trunkety. Staying in the house would be too worrisome.
She would call on Priceless and Lilac at their house across
the rickety plank bridge, and perhaps go shopping in the
town. It was Trunkety Market Day.

Marbleheart walked with her as far as the bridge, then
turned off to take a bracing swim, hoping that his cousins
the River Otters would come along and invite him to lunch
on freshly caught brook trout.

The Wizards' High cottage fell absolutely silent. Even
the usually hilarious washing up of the breakfast dishes was
accomplished very quietly. If anything made an accidental
noise. Blue Teakettle hissed sharply, Shhhhh!

Don Callander

192

"Candidate, state your true name, rank, and birthplace."
intoned Flarman.

Douglas stood easily at attention and identified himself-
Bronze Owl scribbled rapidly on the first page of a bound
book of blank pages, prepared specially for just this pur-
pose. Black Flame looked in at the door, but padded softly
away, followed by Pert. Party was nowhere to be seen.

Overhead in the roof, the Thatchmouse Family settled
down to being very, very still, so as not to disturb the
Candidate or seem to be coaching him. Living in the roof
of Wizards' High for all these years, they'd picked up a
surprising amount of magical lore. Most of it they used to
avoid capture by one of Port's or Party's kittens when the
kits were first learning to hunt.

The Board Chairman solemnly explained the Rules to the
Candidate, and invited him to take the straight-backed chair
facing them across the narrow library table-
He was allowed a clean slate, a sponge, and a supply of
white chalk with which to make notes and do calculations,
if need be, but otherwise he was without notes or books,
papers, or devices of any kind.

Douglas was dressed in a traditional Journeyman's white
shirt under a soft grey linen vest, blue buckram britches
with silver buckles, and a deep blue Wizard's gown with-
out the usual embroidered stars, comets, moons, and other
mystic symbols.

He doffed a flat, blue velvet cap with a silver tassel
hanging down the middle of his back. On the breast of his
shirt was embroidered in gold and red threads the ancient
Pyromancy oriflamme.

"Now, Candidate," began Augurian, leaning forward in
his chair, "please tell us in a hundred words or less why you
seek to become a Master of the Craft of Wizardry known
as Pyromancy . .."

Examination began at ten o 'clock sharp. Owl noted in his
book with a nourish. It must be completed by 8:46 P.M., the
moment of the Autumnal Equinox at the latitude and longi-
tude of Valley in Dukedom. The first question was posed by

Geomancer                 193

the Master ofAquamancy, Augurian of Waterand. . . .

The questions at first were not all that hard. Perhaps the
hardest was the first, asked by the Water Adept: Why did
he want to be a Master Wizard?

How forthright should he be?

Certainly he found the Craft deeply absorbing, highly
interesting, filled with potential for personal satisfaction. It
gave him the tools to be useful, to accomplish things for
himself and for others, too.

Barman Flowerstalk taught that Wizardry must always
be practiced for the sake of others. There were the folk
of Valley and Dukedom, the Sea Creatures who had
befriended him. The good folk of Flowring Isle. The
Realm of Faerie ...

Even Frigeon, once he had been compelled to take back
his conscience, hidden for years in the Great Grey Pearl at
the bottom of Sea, eagerly embraced this principle.

The townsmen of Pfantas and the helpless, ensorceled
Undead servants of the Witch's Coven. And, of course,
the Stones, most recently.

Caspar Marlinspike. Bryarmote. Chief Tet of Highland-
onn. Crimeye, Tet's adopted son and heir. Oval the Great
Sea Tortoise. The Waiters of Summer Palace in Old Kay.
His shipwright father and his lovely mother GIoriana. The
good fisherfblk of Fairstrand.

Even sweetly sad, faithful little Jenny Greenteeth, keep-
ing vigil beside her husband's watery grave in the marshes
along Bloody Brook.

But... he had to admit, didn't he? He wanted to become
full Master Wizard because he just plain enjoyed Wizardry?
It was fun' It had already brought him fame and even some
fortune. And a beautiful, talented, loving bride! People
everywhere recognized his name and respected his skills
. and powers. He was a friend to the Golden Dragons and
s-  of the Queen of Faerie herself.

After considering the question for a full minute in this
way, he answered exactly and completely, just as he had
,-  formed it in his mind.

Don Callander

194

The Examiners nodded with satisfaction.

Litholt next asked, "What is the recommended formula
for a Spell of Invisibility and what are its limitations and
dangers. Master Candidate?"

This was familiar ground. Douglas had several times
practiced Invisibility, His answer was quick and crisply
professional.

The Board Members nodded again.

Wong smiled gently at the Journeyman.

"A green, a blue, a red, and a brown?" he asked; no
more.

"Ah, oh," said Douglas, puzzled. "Um?"

'Take your time," said Litholt, glancing at the wall clock
pointedly. "You may defer the question, if you wish, but
you'll be docked five points, if you do so, even if you
eventually answer correctly."

The Journeyman pondered the Magician's cryptic ques-
tion. Ah! Yes! The colors referred to types of winds that
can be conjured at will by a Wizard. Very handy thing
to know.

Douglas explained in some detail.

"Excellent!" cried Wong.

Bronze Owl had no trouble keeping up with the questions
and answers- The Board's pace was leisurely, although
Douglas thought the minute hand on the wall clock spun
much too fast about its ornate dial.

He explained how FIarman's Cold Boxes worked, in
detail, including the properties of balsa wood or cork as
insulators. He added that his researches suggested it would
be even better to line the cold chamber within the box with
thick glass.

"I've found glass to be a much better barrier against both
cold and heat," he said, warming to his subject. Part of a
Candidate's problem was to answer not in too much detail.
The clock was against him.

Control.

Concision.

Care.

Geomancer                  195

Blue Teakettle bustled merrily in at one o'clock, riding
Tea Cart piled high with sandwiches, dill pickles ("Good for
the concentration and the constitution, too"), hot cocoa or
coffee, and ginger cookies ('To make the Candidate smart
as a snap!"), the kind with walnuts and bits of chocolate
that Douglas especially loved.

Flarman rapped the table sharply with his mallet and
declared an hour recess for lunch.

Owl noted the time and the menu in his record and laid
down Ostrich Plume Pen.

"May I ask how I'm doing thus far?" asked the Master
Candidate, reaching for a second ham-and-cheese sandwich
on rye bread with mustard. He recalled eating practically
nothing for breakfast.

"I guess it would not be an infringement of the Rules
to say you have scored almost a hundred percent so far,"
conceded the Water Adept, pouring tea for Litholt and
Harman. He glanced at Flarman for a ruling.

"The Rule is not specific about lunchtime conversation,"
the Pyromancer said around a drumstick of cold fried chick-
en. "So, I'm inclined to suggest that such questions be
ignored. Talk about the weather, if you want a safer sub-
ject."

"It's going to be a nice afternoon," observed Douglas.
"Wish I were with Mym at Market."

"As do we all," grumped Flarman, but he softened his
words with a grin. "When you've finished that third sand-
wich, my b——Candidate, we shall resume."

"We have twelve minutes left, Douglas, before lunchtime
is officially elapsed," said the official timekeeper, con-
sulting Wall Clock. "Now, you stop that!" she scolded
the timepiece. "You'll spoil the Examination, cheating in
Douglas's favor like that!"

Case Clock shrugged apologetically and rearranged its
hands from 1:18 to 1:28 again.

"I may need those minutes later," Douglas said, shaking
his finger at Clock. "I'm ready to resume."

196 Don Caltander

"The thirteen types of induced ignition?" asked Litholt
at once.

Bronze Owl snatched up Pen and dipped it hurriedly in
Inkwell.

"And the two most useful uses of each? And how can
a Wizard proceed to combine which three to intensify all
the others? With examples from past experience, if you
can."

Douglas blew a puff of breath at the thatch overhead and
began to recite-

"Woosney!" whispered Mrs. Thatchmouse to her young-
est and wriggliest child. "What is the matter with you?"

"I gotta go. Mama!" squeaked the mousling, squirming
all the more.

"Then for heaven's sake, go!" said his father. "But be
quiet as a mouse!"

"Remember what he says and tell me it all when I get
back," pleaded Woosney of his next-youngest sister. He
disappeared down a tunnel in the thatch reeds.

"Boys!" snipped one of his older sisters.

"Mind yourself, missy," her father warned. "You'll wish
that your youngest is as housebroken as Woosney is, one
day soon enough, mark my words!"

The mice settled back to listen to Douglas recite, explain,
expound, suggest, describe, demonstrate, refute, correct,
edit, elaborate, and elucidate. Most of what he said went
right over their tiny heads. Much of it was beyond even
Owl's vast knowledge, although he was pleased that the
things he had personally taught the young Wizard had been
well learned and well remembered.

Flannan listened with his eyes half-closed, nodding from
time to time.

Both Litholt and Wong sat erect, hands folded, leaning
forward to listen carefully to each answer.

Augurian was erect, also, but relaxed, calm, and counting
off salient points on his long, slim fingers. Occasionally
he made scribbled notes on a sheet of foolscap before
him.

Geomancer                  197

Mym wandered aimlessly through busy, boisterous
Trunkety Market.

On every hand she was greeted with warm admiration
and respect by the Trunkety housewives and the Valley
fannwives. On Market Day the latter were all in town to sell
their eggs, cheeses, dressed chickens, apple butter, fancy
breads and meats, butter in carved wooden molds, whole
and shelled nuts, fudge, divinity, sticky toffee wrapped
in colored wax papers, rolled soft, rich caramels, peanut
- and walnut brittles, pecan pralines and sumptuous penu-
. che, fat fruit pies and artistically sugar-and-butter-frosted
cakes ... as well as knitted woolen winter wear and sturdy
wicker baskets in an amazing variety of styles, sizes, and
purposes.

At first they all asked how the Examination was prog-
' cessing, but when it became evident that the Water Adept

knew as little about it as they did, the subject changed to
' flie Wedding.

"Lilac has done fantastically good work on your bridal
;./ gown. Mistress," exclaimed one. "Dicksey must be making
« a fortune on silk thread alone!"

"Nonsense!" cried another. "Good old Dicksey is donat-
ing all the materials, so good has business been since Dead
'* Winter and Dry Summer."

''\   "I do hope you're wrong about that!" cried Mym. "There
"' would be no reason in World why the storekeeper should
give us so much! We intend to pay for every yard and every
spool!"

"We'll all be repaid for our trouble ten times over
just to have you living at the High permanent, my dear
, Wizardling," insisted the eldest grandmother.

"Tell us about this new Wizard who came back with
you," another pleaded. "A Lady Wizard! Who ever heard
of such—save for you, Mistress Mym, of course."

She took lunch with several of them at the Oak 'n'
Bucket, sitting in the Ladies' Parlor beside a cheery fire
of Sea coal and pine logs. The men in the bar next door

198 Don Callander

talked and laughed as they always did, although, as it was
market day, their language was toned down somewhat, all
the women knew. They were bragging now about their
crops, which had been excellent that year, and why it was
so many travelers were being seen on the Brook Road these
days, now that the roads were safe again.

The women mostly talked of their children and grand-
children.

"You dint the waiting most well. Mistress Mym," Inn-
keeper complimented her in kindly fashion as he cleared
away the luncheon dishes.

"Not as hard as it would be without so many friends to
help me through it," replied Mym, graciously and sincerely.
"I'll have a piece of the crumbly yellow cheese, if I may,
and a red-cheeked Valley apple, please."

The Sea Otter swam and floated miles and miles down
Crooked Brook, looking, but not too hard, for his smaller,
shyer cousins, enjoying being off by himself with his
thoughts for a change. The role of Familiar was still new
to him, but he had to admit it was quite wonderful. Exciting.
Fulfilling. Adventurous. Well fed.

And brought a measure of respect and admiration most
Otters never knew, he realized. Otters were expected to
be more or less clowns. And. of course, for good rea-
son!

He found a place where a tiny joining streamlet bounded
down a grassy embankment into the Brook, and spent an
hour sliding down it and plunging into the tea-colored
water.

A number of Blue Jays watched his antics and chortled
with raucous glee every time he hit the water with a satis-
fying splash.

But as he shook himself damp, spelled himself dry, and
turned back toward the High, a drab female Jay hopped
down to him with a shy request.

"My littlest one—we calls him Azure—he's not quite
right," she whispered shyly.

Geomancer                  199

"Not right? You mean in the head or in his body, ma'am?"
asked Marbleheart, instantly sympathetic.

"No, in his wings'" said the worried young mother. She
began to weep softly. "He ... he ... won't or can't fly. and
all his brothers and sisters are long out and about the nest
already. Some of them fly miles each day!"

"Well, well, and well!" said the Otter, seriously, but with
an encouraging smile, "I knew a litter-runt Otter once who
refused to learn to swim, which is much the same to Otters,
you see, as flying is to Jays."

"What did his poor, distracted mother do?" sniffed the
: Jay lady, sounding not so sure that being an Otter was
(he same.

"His father convinced him he could be as good a swim-
mer as any of his sibs- It seems he felt he couldn't do well in
competition with his bigger, older sisters. It isn't easy being
the smallest in the litter—or the clutch, for that matter."
,, "Yes, well, I suppose we haven't really encouraged him
K as much as we should, put that way," admitted the mother.
.""But his father's worried sick, and so am I."

"I remember my own mother saying, about this runt Otter
I spoke of, that he learned to swim eventually because it is
: in the very nature of Otters to swim, and he couldn't really
-refuse forever."

"Oh, so you think . . . ," the Jay mother said, hopefully.
;,  "I say, if young Azure is still not flying by Hallowed
Even, you must bring him up to Wizards' High. There
arc those there under yonder roof who know more than I
ever will about such things. I recommend you bespeak the
Water Adept's Apprentice, Mistress Mym. She is particu-
larly good with young animals, I've noticed."

The Blue Jay and her more resplendent mate, who had
been hanging back but listening carefully to all they said,
thanked Marbleheart profusely and promised to try build-
ing Azure's self-confidence—and to bring him to Mym, if
things didn't get better.

"Fortunate that Jays don't migrate," said the male with a

200 Don Calfander

quick shake of his head. "But what you say is so very tme.
It isn't easy to be the smallest hatchling in the nest."

By design or accident, the Apprentice and the Familiar
met on the road up from Trunkety, just after she'd crossed
Tmnkety Bridge to the south bank.

"Had a nice day so far?" Marbleheart asked, not knowing
what else to say.

"Not especially," admitted the young lady. "I didn't even
buy anything, and I really wanted some marjoram and some
of Frenstil's saddle soap. We're all but out of it at home, at
the High."

They walked together in silence for a mile, passing
Augurian's Fountain and then passing under the edge of
Priceless's orchard before they set foot at last on the plank
bridge. The sun was below the horizon and the sky was
afterglowing with wonderfully rich fall colors, too-

Mym stopped in the middle of the plank bridge to survey
Wizards' High in the purple twilight.

"It's still going on," Marbleheart observed. He pointed
to the glowing windows of Flarman's study.

"Everything's going to be just fine," Mym reassured
herself as much as the Otter.

"Of course it is!" cried Marbleheart.

He remembered to tell her about the little Blue Jay who
refused to fly.

"Oh, the poor little bird! Perhaps I should look his folks
up. He just needs some Wizardly encouragement, I think."

"It's too late to go back now," said Marbleheart. "But if
you want, tomorrow I'll take you to them. They'd come to
you, but as the young 'un won't fly ..."

"No, it'll have to wait- We return to Choin tomorrow."
said Mym.

They crossed the bridge and as they approached the
double front doors, they felt and saw the first lacy flakes
of snow of the coming winter.

"Oh, I love it when it snows!" Mym sang.

Geomancer                 201

"Hmph!" snorted the Otter. "I'd have thought you'd had
enough of it, up there in the Gorge."

"Never!" she said, trying to catch a flake on her gloved
hand. The one she caught was surpassingly beautiful. She
murmured a tiny spell to prevent it from melting.

"I'll show this one to Douglas," she explained. "I wonder
bow-much longer they will be."

Full darkness fell by half past six, thanks to the low-
ering snow clouds- They saw Blue Teakettle escorting a
fresh pot of tea and another of hot cocoa into the Wiz-
ard's study.

By seven-thirty, when Marbleheart stepped out the kitch-
en door into the courtyard, two inches of snow had already
fallen. The temperature was not low, but he could, for the
first time that year, see his breath.

"Want to practice blowing rings?" he asked, but there
Was nobody there to answer. Mym was curled up snugly in
soft, cozy Easy Chair by the front parlor grate—she could
just see the head of the stair from there, in case anyone left
the study and came down the steps with news—reading one
of her interminable Aquamancy textbooks.

"Oh, well," sighed Marbleheart. "What's for supper, any-
way?"

Douglas came down to the front door for a breath of cold
air. It had become rather stuffy in the Examining Room
toward the last, what with Flarman's and Augurian's pipes
and the many beeswax candles burning- He was drenched
with perspiration.

He almost passed the front parlor but Easy Chair waved
an overstuffed arm to attract his attention. Mym was sound
asleep in its embrace, her book fallen to the floor.

The young man went softly to his betrothed, stood look-
ing at her for a bit, then reached out to touch her cheek.

"I'm so sorry!" she murmured, hurling herself into his
arms. "I wanted to be near when you finished."

202 Don Callander

"Well, and you are, and most prettily, here by the fire,"
soothed Douglas. "I want you to know I love you, no matter
what the outcome of the Examination."

"I love you, too! So much! What was the outcome?" she
demanded.

He settled on the arm of the chair when she slid over
to make room for him. Easy Chair sighed contentedly for
them both.

"We'll know in a couple of minutes," he told her.
'They're still up there, toting up my score. Come outside
and let me catch my breath and not think of anything except
you for a while. It's snowing hard, I see!"

The snow covered the front stoop to a depth of four
inches and still fell, slowly and very, very softly. There
was no wind.

Bronze Owl found them standing very close together,
blowing their steamy breath into rings that would have
made Bryarmote very proud. Owl clanged himself onto his
nail, attracting their attention.

"You are now ... a Master Pyromancer!" the metal bird
shouted. "Congratulations! One of the highest scores ever
achieved by a Journeyman, Augurian claims- Personally, I
never doubted the issue."

"Well, neither did I!" cried Mym, hugging Douglas
anew.

"/ did," admitted the brand-new Master Pyromancer, hea-
ving a tremendous sigh of relief. "Whew! Let's go inside
before we freeze to the ground!"

Marbleheart was on the stairs, jumping up and down
from step to step in highly pleased excitement. Barman
and Litholt, followed by Augurian and Wong more slowly,
came down, beaming broadly at everyone.

For the center hall was suddenly crowded wall to wall
with the whole Wizards' High household, from Blue Tea-
kettle, blowing hot, pink steam to the ceiling, to Sugar
Caster, shaking with excitement, and all the Plates, Spoons,
Knives, Forks, Tongs, Griddles, Grills. Slicers, Mashers—
well, it was a madhouse.

Geomancer                 203

"He made it with twenty minutes to spare," announced
Lilholt over the din. "You could have taken the twelve more
minutes for lunch. Wizard Douglas Brightglade!"

"There were no infringements or infractions," claimed
the Water Adept, heartily. "Nothing to argue about at alt."

"My task was the easiest," said Flarman, coming down
to embrace his former Apprentice and Journeyman. "But
then, 1 knew all the answers."

"Because you wrote the questions," cried Marbleheart.

Everyone roared again, this time with laughter.

Chapter Eighteen

^

Unfinished Business

THERE were several legal and logical candidates for
Emperor, including several completely useless Princes of
the Imperial Family, each of whom had long since gathered
his own force of armed bullies and spies.

None of these logical candidates was ever considered
seriously by the various Ministers of the Imperium, includ-
ing the Ministers of Finance. Treasury and War, or even by
the Minister of the Imperial Household, perhaps the most
capable of all the hereditary Ministers of State by virtue of
his closeness to the dead Emperor.

These gentlemen, instead, each sought a different, more
pliable puppet they could control, someone with absolutely
no power base, who would depend on his sponsoring Min-
ister for survival during and after the coronation—a nice,
quiet, dunderheaded fool with an easily inflated sense of
self-importance, preferably but not necessarily with some
slight claim to the Dragon Throne.

Bee-Wing, the Choin capital, was abuzz with ambition
and uncertainty, filled from outer wall to inner palace with
furtive Bureaucrats, their private soldiers and sly secret
agents.

Each Minister huddled in his luxurious palace in the
fashionable precincts of the beautiful, sprawling city, con-
ferring, gathering information, stealing adherents from each
other, and waiting for a chance to strike.

205

Don Callander

206

The main roads in a large part of the central province
had suffered greatly from the floods following the torrential
typhoon rains. Bridges had been swept away and whole
sections of Imperial Highways were still underwater. The
feverish jockeying for influence and power had slid to a halt
until the typhoon passed. Communications were impossible;

armed men were unable to move. Assassins and spys were
hampered by the disappearance of escape routes.

The aggressive Minister of Finance had been getting the
upper hand before the storm, but he'd fled his fortified
stronghold on the coast and his red-lacquered private troops
were scattered across the soggy littoral. Some of them had
been caught and drowned in flash floods. The remainder
were isolated by still-raging rivers and smashed bridges
between them and their employer in the capital.

Finance talked to Agriculture. Agriculture sent for Min-
ing. Mining brought powerful Fisheries to a meeting at
Roads* villa just within the walls of the city. A day-long
debate among them settled nothing but bought Finance
some time.

Meanwhile Finance opened his private coffers to hire a
free-lance regiment from beyond the eastern Imperial bor-
der, and sent his most trusted ally, the Minister of Trade,
to Choin Harbor in a river barge to meet and move them
as quickly as possible to Bee-Wing.

Trade thus found himself at the head of his own private
army.

He began to move the mercenary troopers toward Bee-
Wing as soon as the rivers returned to their normal beds.
He was sorely tempted by the realization that he was now
a force to be reckoned with himself.

From his bunker under a bank of oleander north of
Imperial House, a self-styled Prince named Too Wang Sung
announced that he was the most direct heir to me Dragon
Throne. He planned to move his ragtag army of woodcut-
ters and paper-millers into Imperial House the following
morning.

Geomancer                 207

It appeared a desperate outside bid for power—except
that Too had gathered nearly ten thousand discontented,
out-of-work mil) workers, farmers, and woodsmen armed
with double-bitted axes, hay knives, chain flails and wick-
ed pruning hooks—and five ancient ballistae they had
unearthed somewhere—to back his move.

He'd found them in the poorest of the provinces, enticed
them with promises of unrestricted looting in revenge for
real and imagined wrongs. As they faced certain starvation
if they stayed at home, the countrymen flocked to Too's
banner.

They were by far the best-motivated if worst-organized
army in the capital. They also, purely by accident, stood
between Trade's approaching mercenary troops and the
capital.

Having made his announcement. Too settled back under
his oleander hedge, smoked his pipe, smiled enigmatically
in answer to all questions, and waited for allies to present
themselves.

Within an hour delegations from several minor Imperial
functionaries promised their departmental treasuries to sup-
port Too's Peasant Army. The Minister of Police, relative-
ly powerless due to the practice of stronger Ministers of
maintaining private police and military units, arrived just
at dusk, bringing with him several hundred police spies and
a shorthanded company of ceremonial Mounted Imperial
Bodyguards whose duty was largely crowd control at rare
public Imperial functions.

The Pretender and the Minister of Police met by lantern
light among the oleanders and struck a bargain. Police was
to have overall military command of the peasant rabble. His
new command would surround Imperial House, flood its
network of dry moats, and stand off any attempt to interfere
with Too's occupation of the palace long enough to form a
revolutionary government.

Police sealed his bargain with Too by striking his fore-
head on the ground before him three times—the traditional
submission to an Emperor—and as soon as he could get

208 Don Callander

away on pretext of preparing for the morrow, sent a mes-
sage to the Minister of Finance, offering to betray the
Pretender as he approached Imperial House, in exchange
for the highest police post in the new Imperium, when
Finance had selected the new Emperor.

Privately, Police thought he himself would be the ideal
candidate for the Dragon Throne. He sent his police spies
out to put the suggestion in important ears about the town.

Finance, when he received the offer from Police, almost
choked himself laughing. He sent back word that he wanted
time to think about it.

"No time to think'." shouted Police when he heard the
reply. 'Time only to act. Finance will regret his decision
not to decide."

This situation met Flarman, Douglas, Mym, Litholt,
Marbleheart, and Wong Tscha San the morning they
returned to Choin.

"How can we contact Foggery and Bryarmote?" won-
dered Flarman.

They had chosen Wong*s own house near Choin Harbor
as their starting point. Wong was delighted to extend them
hospitality, although his low, pleasant house had been badly
damaged by me typhoon and by vindictive Constables of
the murdered Imperial Governor of Harbor. They'd torn
everything to pieces searching for mystic secrets left behind
by the Magician when he'd escaped to Caspar Martin's ship
earlier that year. It seemed much longer ago than that, as
Mym said to Douglas.

"I'll summon an old retainer of Captain Foggery's,"
Wong decided. "He has a farm a half day's journey to
the west. He'll certainly know where his master is."

He asked one of his neighbors—all of his own servants
had long since fled—to fetch Foggery's retired gardener
and, meanwhile, he, Douglas, and Mym, helped by the
Otter, restored some order to the Magician's house.

Flarman and Litholt excused themselves, went outside,
and stood facing southwest for an hour, seemingly con-

Geomancer                  209

juring a slow but hot wind that brought more than a hint
of Serecomba, drying the deeply rutted roads and flooded
fields left by the awesome typhoon.

Augurian went in the other direction to a delightful lit-
tle lake surrounded by weeping willows and inhabited by
graceful blue herons with bright orange beaks and legs.

"He's gathering an overall picture of the situation,"
guessed Mym, wielding a puff of damp breeze like a
broom to sweep debris from the floor of Wong's parlor.
Douglas was resetting paper panes in the sliding windows
that opened on Wong's badly neglected garden.

"I think Flarman and Litholt are enlisting an ally," he
said.

"Do you know their intent?" asked his fiancee. "If it were
my own Magister, I'd expect him to conjure up a tidal wave
or reroute a few rivers. But I'm not sure what that pair
would do."

"I've a good idea—with which I'll let them surprise
everybody," grinned Douglas. "There, those windows will
keep out the chill night air, or as chill as it gets here. What
shall I do next, do you think? You're the experienced home-
maker here."

"Fill the roof reservoir with fresh water, if you can
handle an Aquamancer's task," teased Mym. "No, let me
do it. That table needs a new leg. The wicked Constables
expected Master Wong to hide his secrets in table legs and
down-filled cushions, it seems. Woof? It's good to be rid of
all those feathers."

They had arrived in early evening, and by noon the
following day the house was fairly well refurbished and
ready for occupancy once again.

Wong stood in the middle of his sitting room and spun
slowly on his heel, taking it all in, tears in his aged grey
eyes.

"What would a man do without good friends?" he won-
dered aloud.

Litholt bowed deeply and respectfully to their host and
sad, "It is a privilege to serve a good friend. It will take

210 Don Callander

us a while to set your perennials and peach trees to rights,
I'm afraid. Those wicked, thoughtless men were certainly
destructive!"

"It's a result of serving a master like our late Governor,"
sighed the Magician. "My people are not usually destructive
or violent. Only fear could drive men to such vandalism."

"How about some lunch?" demanded the Otter, who
had been exploring the house, the grounds, and the
neighborhood. Housework was not his forte, he'd decided.
Dust balls gave him fits of sneezing.

"I'll take care of it," said the Water Adept's Apprentice.
She began the spells that would import a hearty hot lunch
from distant Wizards' High. Lunch was soon laid out on
the repaired table.

"First order of business," declared FIarman. "Find out
what the political and military situations are before we go
any further."

"We can rely on Foggery to supply us with that infor-
mation," observed Wong.

A very old, gnarled Choinman, in rusty brown robes and
wearing straw sandals and a broad-brimmed straw hat, rang
the bell at the front gate.

"Here's Lee'" Wong interrupted himself, and Douglas
hastened to admit the old man, who grinned happily at the
Magician and bowed rapidly to each in the company as he
was introduced.

"I am Lee Liung Lee," he said several times. "Until I
became too decrepit to hoe and plant, prune and graft, I
was honored, sirs and ladies, to care for the garden of the
revered Seacaptain Foggery."

"If Captain Foggery's beautiful garden is your handi-
work," said Litholt, making the newcomer comfortable at
the table, "you do splendid work. Master Lee. Such grace
and poetry!"

"You must teach me the names of the flowers and the
trees of Choin. So many of them are unknown to us across
Sea," added Mym.

Geomancer                 211

The retired gardener beamed ecstatically and offered to
begin teaching botany and horticulture to the Water Adept
right then and there.

"First," Augurian reminded them, "we must attend to the
sad business at hand. A garden needs a dedicated gardener,
and an Empire needs a good Emperor, do you not agree?"

"No doubt at all about it!" cried Lee. "How may I serve
you in that cause. Masters? Lee Liung Lee is at your ser-
vice!"

"You can put us in touch with your former Master,
Captain Foggery," said FIarman.

"Of course! By last word—it came yesterday evening
by messenger—he is in a village in the hills above Bee-
Wing."

"What said he then?" asked Wong eagerly.

"Well, sirs and ladies, it made mention of his present
location in case you came, not a detailed account of what
he did. I understand from other sources that he gathers
information and organizes his farmers' granges and arti-
sans' guilds, and contacts trustworthy noblemen who can
be relied upon to assist us. I would also suspect they're busy
trying to discover the good gardener we spoke about,"

"Perhaps it's best if we go to him, then, rather than ask
him to come here," suggested Augurian to FIarman.

"I intend to go to him," said the older Pyromancer. "It's
important to Litholt's plan that we be close to Bee-Wing,
once Foggery's people agree on their candidate."

"They're such a diverse group! I fear they'll never agree
on a single candidate, sirs. except through force of arms,"
Lee sighed.

"We'll see about that," was all FIarman would say, and
he suggested that they depart at once for Foggery's head-
quarters.

"We'll all go with you," said Mym. "We can each con-
tribute at least some common sense to the outcome."

"A commodity all too scarce in rebellious times,"
observed Wong. "I dislike leaving my beloved home so
soon again, but it's necessary, so I must be content."

212 Don Callander

"What is it Flarman plans to do, I wonder?" Mym asked
Douglas again as they prepared to leave.

"I'm not entirely sure, and even if I were, I would rather
have him tell about it," Douglas said most seriously.

"Oh!" she said. "I can't wait!"

"Nor can I, but we must. Tomorrow will probably bring
it all into the open."

'Tomorrow," she murmured, lifting her face for his kiss.

They found the retired Seacaptain and the Dwarf Prince
in a large, airy workshop in the middle of a small village
set just under the brow of a hill overlooking the lush,
landscaped splendor of the Imperial Capital.

Foggery sat surrounded by large, flat tables covered with
tall stacks of blank paper and amid various mysterious pieces
of ink-blackened machinery. Beyond they saw Bryarmote,
spattered with greasy ink, working furiously on one of the
machines with a long hand-lever and a confusing welter of
rollers, pivots, plates, pedals, cranks, and gears.

"This is the Imperial Print Shop," Foggery explained
after he greeted them. "It was damaged by a mob sent by
the Minister of Finance a few days before the typhoon, but
not destroyed. Bryarmote hopes to get it up and running
shortly. Very useful."

"Not many knew it even existed," explained Bryarmote.
"The Bureaucrats printed paper money and Imperial edicts
here and thereby controlled the economy and all official
news from the Throne."

"A print shop!" exclaimed Douglas- "I've never been in
one before."

"How does one print money?" wondered Marbleheart,
who was just getting used to the notion of paying for
materials and services with metal coins. "I thought money
had to be silver or copper or gold and things like that."

"I'll explain it to you later. Sea Otter," said Litholt. "If
done properly, it is a convenience greater than carrying
heavy metal coins, of course."

"Thornwood has spoken of introducing the practice to

Geomancer                  213

•»

•e

•  •i

*t
l k

Dukedom," observed Flarman. "It was used long ago in
Old Kingdom, until King Grummist got greedy and printed
far too much and its value fell to almost nothing."

"Sounds complicated to me," sniffed Marbleheart. "Well,
I leam something new almost every hour of the day."

"And we are here to learn the political and military
situation." reminded Augurian, getting back to business.

"I'll answer all your questions that I can, then," said the
Seacaptain, seating them all at one of the tables.

He described the confusion of cross purposes that had
been wracking the country since even before the typhoon.
Minister against Minister against demagogue against parties
and factions.

"It all appears to be on the verge of exploding, I fear,"
he said. "Given a tithe of a chance, by tomorrow the conflict
may shake out as between the two major factions—that of
the Minister of Finance and Too's Peasant Army. Everyone
else will be forced to take sides."

'Tell us of them," suggested Flarman.

"One is led by the very ambitious and ruthless Minister
of Finance. You remember, he sent the soldiers to attack
my house on the coast? He's managed to draw to himself a
majority of the important Bureaucrats, including most of the
top Ministers. At least on paper. What strength he actually
has, no one can guess—least of all old Finance himself.

"He faces this unknown Too Wang Sung and his so-
called Peasant Army. Do you know this Too, Magician?"

"I never heard of him," replied Wong, shaking his head.
"Yet he has gathered an army?"

"An army of ten thousand hungry rebels, mostly from
Doonchong. which has been sorely depressed for years, the
scene of unrest and violence, ever since the Bureaucracy
ordered a stop to papennaking."

He gestured to the piles of paper on the counters around
him.

"They announced that, as no more books needed to be
published, no more paper was required," Wong remem-
bered. "Doonchong is a most sore spot, I know. The poor

214 Don Callander

woodsmen and paper-millers were cut off without a trade
or craft, almost overnight, when they were forbidden to cut
trees."

"Right, Magician! Well, these men have flocked to Too
Wang Sung, who'd been a rascally itinerant gambler, as far
as I can find out. He purchased a minor position as Inspector
of Forests from the Minister of Manufacture with his win-      , 'j
nings, they tell me, and milked it for all it was worth."          ^

"How does he come to lead an army, then?" asked      ^
Marbleheart before anyone else could ask.                     ||

"When the Bureaucrats decided to cease papermaking       ^
and woodcutting. Too took advantage of the unrest—it took       ^
no great vision—and began making speeches in the idle       ^
logging and mill towns of Doonchong. He claimed he was       |
related to the late Emperor's fourteenth son. No one in the       t
Bureaucracy bothered to dispute his claim so it's probably       1
true, as far as that goes. It became a common belief among      , ^
his followers. Then it was too late to dispute his claims.         J^

"When it became obvious that the Bureaucrats would      if
start a civil war, contending among themselves to appoint
the next Emperor, Too told his followers that if they would
set him on the Dragon Throne, he would pension them all,
resume logging and papermaking—and in the meantime
provide plenty of loot, rape, revenge, and bloodshed. It
proved an irresistible combination. Thousands flocked to
follow him."

"And now?" asked Augurian.

"Now his rabble is armed and camped on the northern
edge of the city, just within the walls. Too has announced he
will march on Imperial House tomorrow. Once in the pal-
ace, he will proclaim himself Emperor and form a new gov-
ernment- I think he reasons the people of the Empire will
gladly accept him rather than submit to the confusion and
bloodshed of the Bureaucrats and Princes. He must think
he has men enough to withstand attacks from the Minister
of Finance and his allies. He may very well pull it off."

"Is that your estimate of the outcome?" asked Mym.

"It's a toss-up!" exclaimed Foggery, waving his hands

Geomancer                  215

wildly. "Too has a large number of men willing to risk death
in his cause, but they are ill organized and ill equipped, even
if you count the few professionals the Minister of Police has
provided.

"On the other hand, Finance has hired highly trained and
well-armed mercenary soldiers, professionally led, but they
are few. His officers are said to be bidding against each
other for power, prestige, and higher pay."

"Seems to me history will favor the trained, disciplined
force," put in Douglas.

"Except that Finance's mercenaries were until last even-
ing isolated from the capital by the aftereffects of the
storm," explained the Seacaptain, "and are just now moving
this way."

"Finance took a terrible risk hiring foreign mercenaries,"
declared Wong.

"Yes," agreed Foggery, "Finance's own officers are on
the verge of mutiny! They all want to be the one in com-
mand, it seems."

"Well, then, what will happen?" demanded the Otter.

"What we've said all along," Foggery replied, suddenly
quite angry. "Chaos! Bloodshed! Anarchy! Looting and rap-
ine! Disruption of food supplies, hence widespread hardship
and starvation far beyond the battlefield. You can write your
own log on this, can't you, Sea Otter?"

"I've read of such times in World history," Marbleheart
said, shaking his head. "Such things never happen among us
beasts. I guess that's what keeps us from being civilized."

They went out to the hilltop, which provided a splendid
view of the whole capital, with its sparkling, pagoda-towered
palaces, shining lakes and wide canals, public buildings with
manicured lawns, gardens and groves.

In between stood the neatly aligned houses of merchants,
lesser Imperial servants, and minor court officials.

Around it all looped a fifty-foot-wide boulevard lined
with graceful, ancient weeping willows. To this came roads
from all points of the compass.

Every half-mile along this road stood a tall, round tower

216 Don Caliander

looking out over a countryside cleared of trees and brush for
at least a mile beyond the boulevard. No huts or farmhouses
were allowed to stand here, nor was anyone allowed to plant
crops or trees.

In normal times the lawns were kept close-cropped by
flocks of black sheep that Wong explained belonged to the
Emperor himself. This day, no sheep were in sight.

"Probably herded in by the country folk against food
shortages," guessed Marbleheart gruffly. "Well, can we
blame them?"

A dusty messenger arrived on foot, laboring up the steep
hill from the capital. He thrust a sheaf of papers into the
Seacaptain's hand, saluted, and fell panting on the grassy
verge without a word.

"You've managed quite well, getting information and
setting up your organizations," Augurian complimented
Foggery. "What news?"

Foggery read quickly through the dispatches, nodded his
head, and gave them a brief summary.

"Too is on the move. He'll be at the palace before
dawn tomorrow, unless he's stopped by Finance's mer-
cenary force. Too's people are singing and marching and
looting private houses in the north suburbs. Too, who is
calling himself Prince Too now, has been joined by the
Imperial Police, as we suspected. Too rides surrounded by
these mounted policemen! That sounds foolish to me. He
shouldn't trust the Minister of Police."

Other messages were also fraught with perils.

"Finance's mercenary troopers under the Minister of
Trade hasten to cut off Too's Peasant Army from Imperial
House. They may try to drive the rabble away and install
Finance, or some unknown candidate of his picking, in the
palace, although they are vastly outnumbered.

"Finance's own soldiers are moving swiftly toward the
capital after crossing the largest of the swollen rivers by
an ingenious bridge of boats. Whether they'll attack the
mercenaries or help them beat off Too's army, no one will
hazard a guess."

Geomancer                  217

"Chaos!" exclaimed Augunan. He turned to Flannan.
"It would seem time for your plan to be put in motion,
Firemaster, if we are to save many lives!"

Flannan shook his head.

"Before we make our move, we need one thing to be
decided or it will all be in vam. Who will your people
choose, Foggery, to be your next Emperor? Once that's
agreed, it'll be time to spring Litholt's surprise."

"You ask a tremendously difficult thing," warned Fog-
gery.

"But we must and can come up with a suitable Candi-
date," insisted the Magician. "Come! Let us again urge our
leaders to agree for once."

"Can they do it in time?" wondered Mym, almost to
herself.

"They must," Flannan insisted.

Augurian agreed. "We could dictate their choice—pro-
claim Wong himself the new Emperor."

"He'd be popular," said Marbleheart approvingly.

"But magic and politics never mix," Douglas said quite
firmly. "It's proven historical fact, dear friends. The
Choinese must decide for themselves who will rule them.
After that—well, after that maybe we can give him a fair
chance to succeed."

The Combined Council of the Grange, the Workingmen's
Association, the Artisans' Guild, and the Patriotic Society
of Choin met with Wong and Foggery at dusk on the
reverse slope of the hill so as not to be seen too easily
from the city.

Armed patrols from various Bureaucrats' strongholds
tried to penetrate the thick forest clothing the lower slopes
of the hill, but were turned away time and again—not by
force of arms, but by maze confusions sewn by the four
Wizards. Marbleheart, a slightly darker shadow in the night,
acted as their eyes and ears.

The soldiers thrashed about, swearing in frustration and
tangling time and again in wild grapevines, thickets of briar,

218 Don Callancter

and deadfalls that always seemed to block their way.

Mym attended the Geomancer, listening to her mazing
spells and learning something of her craft. At moonrise
they stopped to rest under a spreading chestnut. Marbleheart
came gallumping up the hill to report nothing moving in
the woods below. The soldiers had given up and returned
to their masters.

"I'm getting sleepy," said the Flowring lass, yawning
mightily. "Will we watch all night?"

Flarman's voice came from nearby.

"I've got some coffee brewing here. if you want some.
Augurian has gone around to the other side to see if he can
get some sort of progress report from the politicians."

Litholt and Mym found the two Pyromancers hunched
over a tiny flame screened by thick holly bushes. Over it
bubbled a scarred and scorched blue-spackled coffeepot, a
distant kin of Blue Teakettle. The delicious aroma of fresh
coffee wafted to them in the cool wind off the heights.

"Never travel without a Pyromancer," advised Mym,
accepting a cup and sipping it appreciatively.

"I'll agree to that," said Flarman. "Here comes someone.
It'd better be the Water Adept or we're in deep trouble."

"It's my Master," Mym assured him, and a moment later
the tall Aquamancer sat down on the soft grass next to her
before the fire,

"Well, the Otter says the last of the Bureaucrat troops,
including their scouts, have given up and gone back to their
beds," Flarman said in greeting.

"Coffee? Wonderful! If I may?" said Augurian. "Delight-
ful!"

"Anything from over the hill?" Flarman asked as he
poured.

"Well, yes and no. They've spent hours arguing with
Wong Tscha San that he should accept the Dragon Throne.
They trust him as no other, they say."

"And Wong refused," guessed Marbleheart. He, too,
accepted a cup of Wizardly coffee, although he felt wide
awake.

Geomancer                 219

"Yes, of course! No White Wizard would let himself be
placed on a throne," said Augurian.

"Aren't you ruler of Waterand, though?" asked the Otter
innocently.

"Of course not!" snorted the Water Adept. "The Water-
anders rule themselves through an elected all-island Coun-
cil. They have the courtesy to ask me to attend their meet-
ings, but I have no vote."

"And if they make a wrong move, or pass a bad law?"
asked Marbleheart. "Do you veto their action?"

"No," said Augurian. "I feel obliged to point out pitfalls,
if any. If they still insist, I give way as gracefully as
possible."

"I don't recall there ever being a bad law passed, do you,
Magister?" asked Mym.

"Well, from time to time they get a wild idea. I let them
have their way. People sometimes learn best by making
mistakes."

The midnight passed quite pleasantly, despite the chill
wind soughing among the trees. From time to time the
Otter slipped away to scout the lower slopes, but he found
no further expeditions coming to pester them.

"They weren't really trying very hard to find out what
was going on up here," he decided when he last returned.

"The Bureaucrats find it hard to think of commoners as
any sort of threat, I guess," said Litholt. "They are too
caught up in their own ambitions and plots."

At length they wrapped themselves in their cloaks and
tried to catch some sleep.

The moon dropped below the hitltop and plunged the
east-facing slopes into velvety blackness. The wind died
with the moon. With his sharp ears Marbleheart heard, from
a great distance across the city, shouts and screams, drums
pounding and shrill laughter, sometimes cries of anger.
He shook Douglas gently by the shoulder.
"I mink I'll slide down into town. See what's going
on."

220 Don Callander

"Be careful, Familiar," said the young Master Wizard

sleepily.
"I'll find you when I get back," the Otter assured him,

and in a moment he was gone.

Chapter Nineteen

<$>

Battle on Fair Ground

A flock of large, white Gulls circled the town on the hill.
Their good-humored badinage awoke the Earth Wizard just
as dawn broke in the east.

Litholt climbed the hill to the edge of the town, looking
for Wong Tscha San and Captain Foggery.

"Wake up, lazy Wizards'" called the Geomancer when
she returned to the fire. "What! Drunk all the coffee and
left none for poor, overworked Stonebreaker?"

Mym rolled from her blanket with a cheery greeting and
set about repairing her tossled hair. Douglas reached for the
coffeepot to refill it for the early-rising Earth Wizard.

Flannan waved the Lady Geomancer to a seat on the soft
grass beside him.

"Are those your Gull friends?" Litholt asked him.

"I sent for them, yes. They'll give us some useful aerial
reconnaissance," Barman yawned- "Sugar?"

"One lump, please," she replied. "Can you trust Gulls?"

"Never failed me yet! Why? Do you have reason to
mistrust the breed?"

"Oh, no. In fact I know very little of them. I mistrust
Crows..."

"So do I," agreed the Pyromancer.

"... and these birds seem alike in size and shape, if not
color."

"Gulls," said Mym, pulling a platter heaped with hot
caramel buns from empty air and passing it around to the

221

222 Don Callander

others, "are among the noblest of birds. They're dedicated
guardians of Sea, harbingers of storms, rescuers of ship-
wrecked sailors. I could go on and on."

"Yes, yes," complained Augurian, "but on the other hand,
they've never learned when to keep silent, as you can hear."

"They'll keep watch for us from above and tell us of
battle movements and such," declared Flarman, nodding
toward the city. "For maximum effect, Litholt and I need
to time our next and final brilliant gambit just so. Too
soon, and it'll be less than completely effective. Too late,
and many innocent—and a lot of not-so-innocent—people
may be harmed or slain."

'That's enough of a reason for me," said Litholt- "I
withdraw my objection to Gulls forthwith."

"But you haven't told us yet what decision they reached
up there," Douglas said to her. "How did it go?"

"Here's Wong," she answered, pointing to the tiny Magi-
cian as he moved carefully through the underbrush to their
fire. "He can tell you better than I."

Wong stopped before them, declined to sit down, accept-
ed a cup of coffee, and reported the night's momentous
decision.

"We agreed—at long last, just before false dawn—to
raise a certain bright, personable, well-liked young physi-
cian named Phong Foo Chong to the Dragon Throne," he
told them.

The assembled Wizards, Dwarf, and Otter applauded
sincerely.

"Phong's of good family, yet not ennobled," Wong went
on, bowing to their praise. "Foggery and I recommended
him highly. He's not tainted by political or regional biases.
Given a fair chance, he'll think clearly, act wisely, and
rule compassionately. He now enjoys the support of all
Foggery's diverse groups—farmers and professional men,
merchants and artisans, the backbone of an Empire."

"Long live Emperor what's-his-name!" cried Marble-
heart, who'd just rejoined the group. "Got any more of
those luscious sticky buns, Mym, my sweet love?"

Geomancer                  223

"If there aren't enough for your dainty appetite," said the
Apprentice fondly. "I'll send to the High for more."

"When you catch your breath," Douglas said to the Otter,
"tell us what's happening down below."

"Catch my breath! Me? Catch my ... I ran at top speed
up the hill just now, faster'n Black Flame could ever go,
and I'm not even sweating! Catch my breath!"

"Well, then, when you've filled your tummy," amended
the young Wizard, "tell us your news."

'That's more respectful-like, anyway," snorted the Otter,
pretending to choke on his second sweet roll. After a gen-
erous gulp of coffee, he began.

'Too's Peasant Army, I heard, came up against the Min-
ister of Finance's paid foreigners just at midnight. On the
north side of the palace complex. There was a great deal
of shouting and swearing and some arrows were shot, but
no great damage done."

"Were you there?" asked Mym, concern for the Otter in
her voice.

"Oh, me? I was safely hidden under the Minister of
Finance's command post. Bee-Wing has a remarkably
elaborate sewer and storm drain system, fortunately. Perfect
for moving about unseen and unheard."

He swallowed a bite of his third bun before he continued.

"Runners kept coming in from the fight and I just lis-
tened. They were breathless, I can tell you, sirrah! Anyway,
the Peasants now hold fast in the fields just to the north
of Imperial House—the Emperor's residence, that is. The
Finance Minister ranted and raved for an hour but his
vaunted Mercenaries refused to attack again until first light
or later, since their ambush failed to send the Peasants
running for home. The Peasants outnumber 'em something
like ten to one."

"Wise of them to wait for light, I would imagine," said
Augurian, "from what I hear of this Too person and his
followers."

Marbleheart nodded and went on, 'The idea now is to
bring up Finance's personal Guards—who've just now

224 Don Callander

entered the city from the east—and combine them with
the mercenaries to fight on an open stretch of level ground
mostly used for fairs and jousts and such- From what I
hear, it should be getting started just about now. Can't you
hear it?"

Faintly from the valley rose sounds of drums and trum-
pets, the clanging of brass gongs. And the shouting of a
multitude in extreme excitement.

'Time we got our own show on the road," grunted
Barman, jumping quickly to his feet and assisting Litholt
to rise. "Douglas, call our friend Cerfew the Great White
Gull, and get his people started observing. 1*11 be right along
to hear their first reports."

With the arrival of Finance's own soldiers, the odds
against the Mercenaries were reduced by an encouraging
amount. With the rising of the sun, the soldiers were able
to see that the Peasants were a disorganized rabble, badly
led and impossibly armed. Most of them carried only their
heavy, double-headed felling axes. The small company of
mounted policemen around "Prince" Too made a brave
splash of color but posed no great threat to anyone—except
perhaps to the Prince himself.

The Minister of Finance, accompanied by his allies,
the ministers of Agriculture, Mining, Transportation, and
Imperial Household, most of whom contributed moral sup-
port but very little military strength to the joint cause,
climbed to the pagoda roof of Imperial House to watch
the fighting.

A constant stream of couriers dashed importantly back
and forth from the palace to Fair Ground. Unfortunately,
both the Mercenary Captain and the former Minister of
Trade, who now commanded Finance's personal soldiers,
insisted he was in overall command- Each dispatched his
own message to Finance for confirmation of command.

Mercenary's was terse and factual, usefully realistic.
Trade's was over-long, filled with meaningless, flowery
flattery, and wildly optimistic.

Geomancer                 225

A dozen Great White Gulls circling overhead had a much
better idea of what was going on than either military leader
on the ground.

"They're mostly shouting insults at each other, in splen-
did parade-ground voices," Cerfew reported to Flarman and
Douglas, trying to keep a straight beak. "The Peasant rabble
has brought up its throwing machines, whatever they're
called..."

"Ballistae," Douglas supplied.

"Yes, whatever you said. Throwing machines. Quite
heavy and cumbersome. I imagine they take forever to
load and shoot, if they're like those Thomwood had at
Battle of Sea. Completely useless in an infantry battle."

Flarman nodded, listening with his ears to the Gull's
report but searching the southern skyline with his eyes.
Douglas could just make out the figure of the Lady Geo-
mancer standing on a rocky promontory against the morning
sky. She seemed to be casting a spell of some sort, but the
distance was too great to be sure.

"Maybe I should return to the battle skies with Cerfew,"
suggested the new Master Wizard. "You may need a more
experienced eye."

Flarman nodded. Cerfew was fierce and faithful to a
fault, but not terribly bright, his grasp of military matters
limited to being at the Battle of Sea. "You guess what's
about to happen—if I'm not entirely wrong?"

"Yes, Magister, I have it figured out, all but the timing."

"Timing is the hard and uncertain part, relying on Gulls
as we are. You may have to use some spelt of your own to
keep the whole thing from getting really serious. I leave it
to you, Douglas my son."

With no further word, Douglas selected a spell magical-
ly reducing himself to about four inches tall and hopped
nimbly onto the Great White's back, shouting, "Let's go
to war, Cerfew!"

Mym watched him leave, biting her lip to keep from
insisting she go along. Flarman put an arm about her shoul-
der and gave her a hug.

226 Don Callander

"There'll be times you'll go and he'll stay behind," he
soothed. "As I'm sure you must realize."

"Oh, I'm not worried about Douglas," Mym stoutly
insisted. "I just want to fly over there and help keep things
under control."

"Do you guess Flarman's mysterious plans?" inquired
Wong, nervously nicking his ornate ivory and peacock-
feather fan open and closed. "He has not confided yet
in me."

"Nor in me," said Mym. "But. .. well, that's Flarman's
way."

"See?" called the Otter. "Flarman keeps watching Mis-
tress Litholt to the south."

'Tongs, the Fire Dog, perhaps?" guessed Wong.

"Hardly," scoffed Marbleheart. "Look out, something's
going on down there!"

Douglas had a perfect view of the beginning battle.

The combined Mercenary Force and Finance Guards line
formed a wide arc around the north edge of Imperial House's
beautiful grounds, facing the empty Fair Ground.

They were armed with long pikes, with broad, curving
swords, and with short spears. They lined up neatly in
perfectly straight ranks, ready on command to stride for-
ward.

On either flank rode cavalry mounted on the tough, shag-
gy ponies of Choin with long, thin lances held high, poised.
Flags snapped in the light morning breeze, looking rather
brave and gay.

Their opponent was by contrast a vast, dun-colored, mill-
ing crowd of men in plain, often ragged leather jerkins
and filthy hose. The Peasant Army wasn't organized into
discernible companies or troops. It stood about in groups
of various sizes, shouted, laughed, and cursed at each other
and at the enemy across the open ground.

They Shook their gleaming, sharp axes on high and dared
the enemy—or their own fellows—to make the first move.
They showed no inclination to attack.

Geomancer                 227

Yet, Douglas saw, their position was not entirely without
logic or purpose. The ground north of the Fair Ground
was roughly furrowed by a great number of intersecting,
steep-sided ditches half-filled with slowly flowing mud-
dy water, hidden below tall grasses and clumps of bam-
boo.

Heavily armed soldiers and, certainly, heavy and short-
legged ponies, would be at a grave disadvantage, Douglas
realized, if the Peasant Army could hold its ground and
draw the enemy to them.

That was their main advantage—that and their great
superiority in numbers.

"If they stick close together and take their lumps,"
observed Cerfew, glancing sideways at his passenger, "they
have more a chance than I would have thought."

"Where is the man. Too Wang Sung?" wondered the
Wizard. "Ah, there he is!"

"Yes, the tall, lanky man with the metal cap and the
much-too-long sword," agreed the Gull. "He's found a
mound to stand upon, to see and be seen. Brave sight!"

"Now ..." Douglas started to say something, but move-
ment below caught his eye. 'The Finance center moves
out!"

Mercenary foot soldiers heard their officer's shrill orders,
walked slowly forward, slanting their pikes and spears at a
slight angle, poised to thrust and jab or slash.

The Doonshong axmen stood their ground.

Sudden silence. Then renewed shouts from both sides.

As the professional soldiers came within a few yards
of the Peasant line—it wasn't really a line, but an edge
of the crowd—they slowed, expecting the inexperienced
countrymen to break ranks and flee in panic.

Without orders, the Peasants in the forefront suddenly
dashed at them, swinging their heavy, double-bitted axes
over their heads and screaming like madmen.

The lines collided, producing sounds of axes on armor, of
blades on flesh—terrible sounds—combined with screams
of the first wounded on both sides.

228 Don Catlander

Companies of mercenary archers rushed on foot to either
side until they were within bowshot of the close-packed
Peasant Army. Most of the ragged woodsmen never saw the
bowmen until the first cloud of black arrows wacked into
their ranks, some fired directly at them, some launched in
high-arching trajectories to fall straight down from above.

Men cried out in surprise, pain, and fear. For a breath the
Peasant front shivered and quaked.

Into that quiet came a shouted command even Douglas
could hear. A crowd of Too supporters suddenly dashed
from flanking ditches on either hand, where they had hid-
den, flinging themselves straight at the bowmen as they
reached for a second flight of arrows.

The archers were preoccupied with the massed target
before them- Before they could change their aim. the lightly
armed farmers bowled into them, dashing their bows to the
ground and slashing and stabbing at the fallen bowmen with
skinning knives and hayforks.

Another loud, clear shout and a blast of trumpet call. The
bowmen retreated in good order, defending their backs with
their own light swords and knives, pursued by the flankers.

Still another cry over the din of battle caused the Peasant
flankers to swerve suddenly to the right and left, converging
from both sides on the Guards infantry in the middle of
the line.

The Finance soldiers were, for just a moment, confused
by the attack from the sides. Many turned to meet the new
threat, easing their deadly pressure to the front.

The massed horde of axmen surged suddenly forward
again, sensing the soldiery's uncertainty in the face of the
flank attacks. Hand-lo-hand fighting flowed back onto me
level grass lawn of Fair Ground.

Here the Peasants were at a disadvantage, Douglas saw,
for the soldiers managed to shift themselves into a solid wall
defending both sides and the front. Just before a renewed
archery attack came flying over the soldiers' heads, the
attacking Peasants fell back to their original defensive posi-
tions between, among and in the deep ditches.

Geomancer                  229

Rather than mounting a counterattack at once, the Mer-
cenary troop beat a hasty but orderly retreat to the south
edge of Fair Ground, to regroup and fill in the ragged gaps
in their lines.

The suddenly empty field was littered with swords, spears,
lances, axes, scythes, hayforks, spent arrows, discarded red-
lacquered armor—and a hundred dead or dying bodies. As
the sounds of the attack and counterattack died away, the
screams of the wounded became terribly clear.

"Back to Flarman!" ordered Douglas, shaken by the sights
below. "Hurry!"

He found the older Pyromancer studying the southern
horizon with a pair of binoculars he had taken from his right
sleeve. He lowered them when Cerfew landed beside him.

"There has been an attack, and the Peasants rolled it
back. A draw at the moment," piped the temporarily tiny
Douglas. "Why Finance's officers didn't order a cavalry
attack, I can't imagine, unless it was fear of the uneven
ground north of the Fair Ground. Both sides have drawn
back. In a minute or two .. ."

"Listen," said Flarman sharply. "When the next attack
comes, right at the climax of the effort, with both sides
fully occupied, then ..."

"I understand," said Douglas. "Where are Mym and
Litbolt?"

"They went down with Wong and Augurian to help tend
the wounded," explained Flarman, impatiently. "Do your
own job, young Master Wizard! They can take care of
themselves!"

Douglas sent the Gull into the air again. In two minutes
they were circling low over the bloodied Fair Ground.

"What will they do next?" wondered Cerfew, caught up
in the intense excitement of the battle.

"If I were Too, I'd order an all-out attack," decided the
Wizard. "Casualties would be high, but at the moment the
soldiers are shaken and surprised that they couldn't win it
all in one frontal attack."

230 Don Callander

"You still want to keep an eye on that Too person?"
asked another Gull flying close by,

"Yes! When the climax comes, I'll need to know exactly
where he is."

The tableau seemed at rest for a moment.

Douglas searched for Mym and the Lady Geomancer. At
last he located Mym on the edge of the Fair Ground, right
where the worst of the fighting had taken place moments
before. She was directing volunteers to carry the wounded
away, far to the side, where they wouldn't be trampled in
the next attack.

Litholt was not with her, but he saw her a moment later
bending over a line of fallen men laid under a pergola at
the edge of the formal garden. Wong, Marbleheart, and
Augurian were nowhere to be seen.

"My boy," he heard FIarman's excited voice ring in his
ear, although he knew him to be several miles away, "I'm
all set here! Just need the right moment to move in and
scare the leather shirts off these gents. It's up to you! Give
me the word but allow a minute or two for us to get into
position."

"Right!" Douglas cried aloud. Cerfew took it as a word
of encouragement and spurted forward, heading back to the
center of the field. Douglas snatched a glance to the south,
but saw nothing unusual.

Except perhaps a coarse grey cloud shot with silver light-
ning, a great distance away.

Having failed to move the Peasant Army back with a
direct attack. Manufacture argued, they should send the
Mercenary cavalry around to both sides. The thunder of
tough little war ponies had always struck fear into farmer's
hearts, he insisted. They'd flee at once!

"Pony soldiers be damned!" yelled the Mercenary Cap-
tain. "We need something more fearsome than a few lit-
tle horses prancing about! Order an advance of the entire
line, I say! Cavalry to fight on foot once they get inside
the defenders' front. I'll send my best company straight

Geomancer                 231

after Prince Too. He's still posturing about on that hillock,
making a clear, fine target."

Manufacture shrugged, "Well, give the orders yourself.
My men will follow yours. It's your responsibility if they
fail!"

With such sudden, cowardly abdication of command, he
turned his own pony and trotted back to where Finance
and the other notables were watching the action and being
served iced drinks.

The morning sun was quite warm and the air filled with
acrid dust. Despite their close view of the first encounter—
perhaps because of it—the Ministers had no idea of what
had happened in the field right in front of them.

"We should keep riding straight on through the city
and out the other side," suggested one of Manufacture's
officers, shakily. "Let those boorish hirelings do the bloody
work. He intends pure slaughter for both sides, I can see."

"No, not yet," snapped his commander. "We'll tell
Finance that we are falling back to guard him, just in case
the others aren't able to overrun Too's rabble this second
time. That way, no blame to us if the Mercenaries fail."

"There they go!" shouted Douglas to Cerfew. "Hold
steady now!"

"Steady as she goes, sir!" responded the Seabird.

The entire Bureaucrat line began to walk, to trot, then to
run across the level Fair Ground. The Peasants fell silent,
watching them come swiftly on.

The voice of Too could be heard urging his men to
stand firm, meet the attack among die ditches. Douglas
was surprised that so few of the axmen turned to flee.
They were both brave and desperate!

The lines crashed together with a furious shout. Horses
screamed in fear and pain. Men cried out in terror and in
anger. Blade met blade and bright red blood stained the
long grass.

"Now!" shouted Douglas in a far-carrying Wizard's voice.
"Now!"

232 Don Callander

The sky, a moment before bright with sunlight, turned
grey, and darker grey yet, then almost black. A deep bass
vibration filled the air, and a swirling wind shook the trees
and nppled through the grass.

Fighting men on both sides froze in the sudden twilight.
They glanced up ... and almost to a man threw down their
weapons and fled or flung themselves to the ground, cov-
ering their heads with their arms, whimpering in abject
terror.

The cloud that blocked the sun resolved into hundreds of
individual bodies, great black-winged, red, gold, and green
Dragons!

They came on in all sizes, from foot-long Fire-Drakes
snorting shafts of red flame before them, to ten-ton, fifty-
foot-long Great Goldens, singing their ancient battle song,
charring the Fair Ground lawn, sending up roiling clouds
of steam from the watery ditches.

Men who were present later often tried to tell what it
was like, looked like, sounded like, smelled like. Few found
the words, ever- For while the Dragons carefully avoided
serious injury to men of both sides, panic spread faster than
their flames-

The few warriors who, for whatever reason, held their
ground found their weapons smoking and glowing red in
their hands, until they threw them to the ground and howled
in pain.

Tough lacquered-leather body armor began to fume and
stink from Dragon's-breath fire. Soldiers stripped off their
breastplates, greaves, and cherry red iron helmets in panic.
When they tried to run, low-circling smaller Fire-Drakes
herded them back toward the center of the field.

Among the Peasants, it was the same story. The dragons
forced them to the ground. Some tried to hide in wet
ditches but the water steamed and bubbled about them,
forcing them to scramble out and throw themselves on the
smoking ground, hands over their heads, calling for mercy,
offering their bits of stolen treasures for escape.

Geomancer                 233

The entire Battle of Fair Ground was over in less than
four minutes.

Douglas flung himself from the Gull's back as Cerfew
dropped to the ground in a heart-stopping dive. Before his
feet hit the grassy verge of a canal, he suddenly shot back
to full size.

Leaping over the narrowest part of a boiling ditch, he
sprinted up the hillock to confront the tall, lanky Pretender.
Too Wang Sung stood frozen m dumb shock.

'Too Wang Sung, order your followers to throw down
their arms and lie flat on their faces," the Wizard cned in
a tremendously amplified voice that carried over even the
screams and clamor, the crack and the whirr of dragon's
wings, the roar of fires. "Do it now\ Or I can't guarantee
your safety!"

"He's right!" said Myrn, coming up the other side of
the mound. "Enough—too many—have already been hurt
here. Only instant obedience will stay these terrible Dra-
gons!"

The two magickers stood on either side of the shattered
former petty gambler, looking like avenging Fairies on the
torn and bloody field.

"But... but. ..." stammered Too. "We must defeat the
Imperial Bureaucrats or die trying! We must seat our own
Emperor! Can't you see that?"

"No need," said Douglas, calmly. "The Bureaucrats are
already beaten—and so are your wild woodcutters. The
matter of the succession has been settled in the best interests
of all—including you. Long live the Emperor Phong!"

"Emperor Phong!" screeched Too, "Who in World is he?
/ am a grandson of the old Emperor's Honored Fourteenth
Son. The Dragon Throne is mine by right!"

"If you'd care to argue the point with a few angry Dra-
gons," said Mym, with a grim smile, "I think I can arrange
it in no rime at all!"

"When your men are headed back to their camp," added
Douglas, "we'll escort you to Imperial House to offer your
allegiance to the new Emperor. You'll find your enemies

234 Don Callander

are there, too, for the same purpose."

The dazed Pretender gave the proper orders in a shaky
voice. Most of his officers were already prostrate in the
grass, cursing or weeping in frustration and fear, by turns.
They rose and stumbled northward, back to the oleander
hedges.

"Come along, Master Too!" the younger Fire Wizard
said, more gently now. "Your army is to remain in camp
until ordered home by the new Emperor. Food and medi-
cines will be brought to them there- For the moment, you're
all prisoners of the new Imperium, but good behavior may
cam them parole."

"And as for me?" asked Too somberly-

"I don't know what Emperor Phong will decide about
you, but as far as I'm concerned ... in your shoes I'd
probably have done the same thing. Perhaps not for the
same motives—who knows? You did what you thought was
right, and you might have succeeded in the end—if that's
any consolation. I'd forget about being a great-grandson
of the old Emperor, however. There're a dozen or more
other Princes with closer ties and better claims, if it comes
to that."

Heartened by assurances from the two young Wizards,
Too Wang Sung walked between them passively across
smoldering Fair Grounds. Above them the Horde of Dra-
gons circled, watching and calling excitedly to each other,
but no longer raining down fire and fear.

By the rime they had walked their prisoner across Fair
Ground and through the badly trampled formal garden to
Imperial House, things had settled down to a low roar.

The lawns, gardens, and avenues about Imperial House
were filled with Dragons of all sizes, shapes, and colors,
mostly green, red and gold predominating. The beasts were
in a jubilant mood.

"We don't all get together so very often," explained one,
recognizing Douglas from the muster on Waterand before
Battle of Sea against Frigeon.

Geomancer                  235

He escorted them through the throng of scaled fliers
admiring a life-size bronze statue of a quite fantastic Dragon
at the palace's main entrance.

"You're the Pyromancer Douglas Brightglade, aren't
you?" one of the medium-sized dragons asked politely.

"Yes, and this is Water Adept Mym Manstar, my fiancee,"
replied Douglas.

"A great pleasure to meet you! My great-great-great-
great-grand-uncle, the Grand Golden Dragon, said I should
look you up."

"My old friend!" cried Mym. "We spent many a happy
afternoon talking and telling stories on Highest Point of
Waterand Island, you know."

"He's told me," said the young Golden with a delighted
laugh.

"Is your great-grand-uncle here in Choin?" asked Doug-
las.

"He insisted on coming, although Wizard Flarman told
him not to stir from home if he didn't feel like it. Great-
grand-uncle says reports of his advanced age are great-
ly exaggerated. He's within the palace right now, taking
charge of everything, as usual."

They parted from the Dragon, promising to spend some
time with him later—and extending an invitation to attend
their wedding in December, which pleased him even more—
and led their utterly amazed and thoroughly frightened pris-
oner into Imperial House.

Self-appointed ushers showed them to the Grand Audi-
ence Hall in the center of the huge palace complex. They
were members of Foggery's Patriotic Society of Choin.
If they'd grinned any more broadly, Mym whispered to
Douglas, they'd probably dislocate their jaws.

The scene inside the enormous, ornate Audience Hall
was close to pandemonium. Around the wall of the circular
room crouched a solid phalanx of fierce-looking Dragons,
the biggest ever, glaring at the Choinese with fiercely glow-
ing eyes,

236 Don Callander

Douglas, who knew the breed better than most, could
see that their fierce looks were just part of an act. The
Dragons were intensely excited—as witnessed by the occa-
sional bright bursts of fire when they sighed, laughed, or
coughed—and even a little awed by the majestic palace.

A densely packed crowd of jubilant Patriots, Guilders,
and Grangers milled about, looking for vantage points from
which to view the events about to begin before the solid
jade Dragon Throne, set in the middle of the floor on a
high platform.

To one side, watched intently by the Dragons, were the
ministers of Finance, Commerce, Transportation, Roads,
and so on and so on, pulled from their rooftop perch and
looking sick with apprehension.

Their faces were smudged with smoke and tears, and
their clothes, once splendidly elaborate, embroidered, and
bejeweled, were dirtied and rumbled. They had been round-
ed up by a platoon of medium-size dragons led by Wong,
assisted by Bryarmote, waving his gleaming Elvensword
and giving orders in a loud, rough voice.

A smaller group was held on the other side of the room.
These were dressed only in the underclothing warriors wore
beneath full body armor. Their rumpled doublets and jer-
kins of wool and linen were marked with black scorches
and bums. They were completely disarmed, looking rather
fearful but still rather pathetically defiant.

Wong Tscha San stood as an island of calm on the second
step of the Dragon Throne, his hands folded in his wide
sleeves, waiting for some sort of order to be established
by the shouting ushers and marshals.

Augurian, Litholt, Marbleheart, Bryarmote, and Flarman
stood together just to his right on the. lowest step, chatting
amiably with Foggery and the leaders of his coalition.

"Here's the man Too," said Flarman in a cheery, loud
voice- "We can begin, if it pleases Your Imperial Majes-
ty!"

He turned, as did everyone else, to face the throne of
green jade and the new Emperor of Choin seated upon it.

Geomancer                 237

He was a youngish man, taller than usual for his race.
He had a pleasant, kindly face, honestly open, broad, and
round. He was dressed in the sober robes of a physician,
unadorned except for Wong's ivory-and-peacock-feather
fan, which he waved self-consciously as he waited for
silence to fall.

"What do you suggest we do first, revered Wong Tscha
San?" the new Emperor of Choin asked in a carrying but
pleasantly modulated voice. "May we have silence, please,
so that all may hear?"

"And obey," added the elderly Magician. "I think I shall
begin by introducing everyone to Your Majesty. I know
things have happened very quickly, and you are probably
confused by so many new faces and names."

"Please!" said the Emperor. He sat back gingerly into the
throne's cushions, ready to listen.

The Magician began with the Wizards' party, not
excluding himself, saying who each was and how each
had helped in the crisis following the death of the late
Emperor.

"I—or should I say *we'—will shortly attempt to express
my gratitude for your powerful and timely assistance," said
Phong, smiling at them broadly.

"Not at all necessary, Majesty," said Barman with a
low, sweeping bow. "It was both our pleasure and our
duty."

"Nevertheless ...," replied the Emperor. He nodded to
Wong to continue.

The Magician of Choin introduced by name and title,
with no further comment, the Ministers, Clerks, Officials,
and other Functionaries of the imperial court and gov-
ernment.

There were thirty in all. All but a handful, Douglas knew,
had had greedy hands in the civil unrest of the past months.
Some had bloody hands as well-

Wong introduced the Mercenary Captain and his officers.
Phong nodded to them calmly. They returned his nod with
respectful bows.

238 Don Callander

"You need no longer tarry here," said the Emperor to
their Captain. "Recross our borders, sir, and never return.
Choin is henceforth closed to you."

The Captain bowed even more deeply, muttered his grati-
tude in formal words, and the Mercenary officers left quick-
ly, looking neither left nor right. The former Ministers
carefully averted their eyes as well.

Foggery introduced the elected leaders of the various
organizations that had contributed to the swift end to the
civil war, and who had, meeting peacefully together, select-
ed the new ruler in the name of the people of Choin.

All of this, stripped of almost all ceremony other than
common courtesy, took well over two hours, with everyone
standing except the Emperor on the Dragon Throne and the
silently watching dragons.

"Wizard Flarman Flowerstalk," said Wong, "please intro-
duce our fiery friends from the south of Serecomba."

The Grand Golden Dragon himself stood forth, bowed
haughtily to the Emperor, and said in a booming voice,
"Majesty, Magician Wong, Flarman Dragonfriend, Water
Adept Augurian, Master Douglas, and Mistress Mym, my
good friends and war companions' I move we dispense with
the naming of Dragons. A Dragon's name is his own private
business, and he will tell it in his own time, to whomever
he chooses."

"Of course, if that is what is suitable," agreed Emperor
Phong. "I do not wish you Dragons to think we are ungra-
cious or unmannered!"

"We were called to assist our friends in a matter to
which, to be frank with you, Lord Emperor, we would
have paid no attention whatsoever, if they hadn't asked.
I mean no disrespect. Majesty! The doings and misdeeds
of Men, Elves, and Fairies are generally of no concern to
us. If anyone is to be thanked for our participation, it is
the Wizard Flarman Flowerstalk and the Lady Geomancer
Litholt Stonebreaker."

"Nevertheless," said the Emperor, leaning forward ear-
nestly, "I offer my heartfelt gratitude, not for my humble

Geomancer                 239

self, but for the sake of my whole people."

"The people of Choin have been always most courteous
to us," said the Great Golden Dragon with a smile—a rather
fearsome sight for those unused to Dragon smiles. "And I
must admit to you. Majesty, that we are not as indifferent
to Choin's fate as I led you to believe. Our ancestor, the
Highly Honored Primary and Primordial Dragon, was a
close friend and mentor of your Founding Emperor, Chan
Lee Fwong, known as the Sensible. Which is why he called
his jade chair there the Dragon Throne."

"I had suspected it!" exclaimed the Emperor with great
interest. "Records of those early days were long ago mud-
dled and lost, dear sir! Could you perhaps, someday, send
us someone of your clan to tell us what actually happened
at our beginnings?"

"Be delighted, once you've settled the fates of these
wicked culprits, here assembled under guard," rumbled
Grand Golden, a bit pompously, glaring ferociously at the
quaking Ministers. "We'll have a long, long talk about it, the
first pleasant afternoon available, I promise you, Honored
Emperor of Choin."

The Emperor rose and walked down the five steps of the
Dragon Throne, surveying the assembled throng, culprits
and heroes together.

"It is well past the middle hour, dear friends. If someone
will direct us to the dining halt. I hope we wilt find enough
to feed everyone adequately."

As if on cue, a gorgeously attired imperial servitor
appeared to announce that luncheon was served. There was
a general movement through the side doors in his wake.

Phong grinned delightedly at the Magician and the Wiz-
ards and their companions.

"I was scared out of my wits, I can tell you!" he con-
fessed.

"The hardest part is over, I think," Flarman Flowerstalk
chuckled. "We'll consult with you further, if you wish,
on what's to be done with the offending Ministers and
Princes."

240 Don Callander

"Let's find a quiet place to eat our own meal. I never
had breakfast," said the Emperor.

"Come to think of it," cried Marbleheart in surprise,
'•neither did I!"

Emperor Phong listened gravely to their advice and ideas
over lunch, but the decisions he announced were his own—
and showed him to be a clear-minded, compassionate, yet
realistic man.

"He'll do," said Wong later, with a deep sigh of satis-
faction. "I suppose it is too much to expect that everything
will go smoothly, however."

"I guarantee it won't," said Douglas. "Which is why there
are Wizards."

"That's why one so often finds a Wizard where there is
trouble," said his pretty fiancee. "So a sailor friend of mine
once told me."

"Old Caspar Marlin!" Flarman laughed aloud. "Majesty,
if it hadn't been for Caspar and his loyalty to Foggery, his
retired Seacaptain, we might not have been around to help
put down the Bureaucrats* plots."

"I think I'll have to raise some monuments," said Phong.
"One to the Dragons, or at least the Primary Dragon, we
already have. It should be covered with purest gold! One
to Seamen like Captain Foggery and this Marlin, of whom
I've never heard until now, would be appropriate, I believe.
I have so much to leam!"

"As long as you're willing to leam, you'll do just fine,"
said Augurian.

The Mercenaries were returned what was left of their
armor and arms and marched to Choin Harbor, where they
took ship for their homeland, away to the west. They were
allowed to keep the fees advanced to them by Finance
Minister from his own treasury. No one came forth to ac-
cuse the hired soldiers of rapine or pillage. They had be-
haved quite professionally, all agreed, whether you favored
their employer or not.

Geomancer

241

The Peasant Army from Doonchong, stripped of their
loot but allowed to keep their weapons (as they were nec-
essary tools of trade) was disbanded immediately and sent
home with a generous present each from the imperial treas-
ury—which surprisingly contained far more money than
anyone ever thought, thanks to the careful collection of
taxes, imposts, duties, and fees by the Minister of the
Revenue. Although Revenue had given cautious lip service
to his more powerful colleague Finance, he was an honest
accountant. Phong decided to keep him in his post.

"Honest and capable accountants are very hard to find."
he explained.

The woodsmen and paper-mil! workers were promised
the new Imperium would shortly lift the illegal ban on
logging and papermaking. Phong announced an end to all
imperial censorship of printing and publishing. The paper
mills would soon be back at work, giving full employment
to the mill workers in their mills and woodsmen in their for-
ests. They in turn would patronize the fanners and merchants
of the Doonchong, once they were earning their keep in the
forests.

Too was truly shattered by the horrors of the Battle of
Fair Ground. The Emperor was inclined to be lenient. They
had a long, private talk.

"Yes, I admit that 1 formed and led the Peasant Army as
much for my own purse and glory as for any cause," Too
confessed. "I have been a gambler since my earliest youth.
I saw my chance and I grasped it, eagerly and knowingly.
I am now ready to take my losses like a professional."

"I don't see that your reasons were so shameful," decided
the Emperor. "I allowed myself to be persuaded to take this
Dragon Throne as much for my own glory and enrichment
as for what I could do for my country. Well, almost as
much. To gain great rewards. Too, we have to take great
risks."

He decreed that Too could return to Doonchong and work
to improve that poorest of provinces. He would be granted

242 Don Callander

certain imperial mandates. One was to establish a good,
honest, professional police force. Doonchong had for too
long had the reputation of a rough, tough, lawless place,
Phong said severely.

Master Too eagerly agreed. His good repute with the
Peasant Army veterans would be his biggest asset, Douglas
decided. But he advised the Emperor to keep an eye on the
man just the same.

The ministers quaked in their tattered slippers when
Phong started to examine their roles in the civil war.

"This will take some time," he said to them. "Meanwhile,
the Dragons, specifically the Fire-Drakes, have agreed to
act as your close keepers. You will be taken to a distant
spot in the very center of the Serecomba and held there
while we examine your actions most carefully."

The Ministers wailed, begged, and wept, but Phong was
firm.

"You may not take servants or luxuries of any kind," he
ruled. "You will be safely housed and adequately fed. Your
families may visit you once each month for a day and a
night, if you behave well for the Dragons. Some of you may
be cleared of the greater crimes. Those will be restored to
their lands and honest titles.

"Others of you may look forward to a number of months,
perhaps years, of healthy but lonely desert life. He who
complains the loudest will be longest held, I suspect. Mean-
while, your departments will be reorganized, modernized,
and assigned dependable new Ministers chosen on the basis
of competitive examinations—with the advice and approval
of the Combined Council. There is some talk of establishing
an elected parliament, but that is a way off, yet. In the
meantime, the Combined Council will serve without pay
in its place."

Complaining and wailing ceased as though someone had
closed a valve, and the Fire-Drakes herded the thirty mourn-
ful miscreants off to where the largest Golden Dragons
waited to carry them off into the bleak, broiling hot, almost
endless Serecomba.

Geomancer                 243

"Rather harsh, wasn't it?" asked Mym. "Not all of them
did great wrong, surely?"

"Ah, but you miss the point, my dear," explained the
Emperor. "While not all of them caused the crisis, not a
one of them did a single thing to prevent it. That in itself
is abdication of responsibility."

"I'm inclined to agree with Your Majesty," said Augurian.
"Sins of omission are as serious as sins of commission."

"Or, to put it in terms of my own profession," the Emper-
or added, "a physician who refuses to treat a patient when
he has the skill to do so is as culpable as one who knowingly
mistreats him. The patient dies just as surely."

They had a picnic lunch on the broad lawn before Imperial
House, on a gentle hill, where passersby on the broad, paved
avenue that circled the palace could see their Emperor enter-
taining his friends.

A politely nodding and bowing crowd of minor civil ser-
vants and merchant's clerks on their lunch hours gathered on
the far side of the dry moat. Almost as soon as they began
to gather, pushcart vendors with savory fried rice balls, egg
rolls, and mounds of crisply fried noodles appeared and did
a lively business.

"You really should try their egg rolls," suggested Emper-
or Phong, pouring tea. "1 adore them myself Better than
even in the best restaurants, I swear."

"I would love to spend a much longer time in your
beautiful country." said Mym. "However, I have a few
other things that must come first."

"Ah, yes, your approaching wedding!" The Emperor
smiled brightly. "I would not ever presume to suggest you
delay that."

"A lot of events have tried to delay it already," said
Flarman, chewing lustily on a rib of spicy barbecued pork.
"Luckily, nothing can stand before a woman's determina-
tion to be married, it seems."

"There is also the matter of Journeying in your Craft,"
cautioned the Aquamancer, waving his finger. "You are still

244 Don Caliander

but an Apprentice, Mym Manstar."

"I'm well aware of it, Magister," said she with a loving
smile for the Water Wizard. "It's not at all forgotten."

"Time for that after the Winter Solstice," he relented. "We
Wizards have a great deal to do yet to untangle Frigeon's
evil enchantments. With Witches' Covens and enchanted
Stonemen and Choinese rebellions, we've neglected the
poor ice-enthralled, I fear."

After they'd eaten and were seated in a semicircle on
the lawn before the Emperor, Phong signaled for their
attention.

"You are eager to return to your homes, I know. I said
before that I could never adequately thank you each for your
help in a dire and dangerous hour. There is stiti much to
do here, of course, but to continue that work I will have
the inestimable assistance and wise council of Wong Tscha
San, my very own Imperial Magician."

The picnickers applauded and the modest Magician
blushed crimson and bowed to them all several times.

"Master Wong has agreed to act as my chief adviser and
mentor," continued the Emperor. 'T am most grateful for
that! I couldn't do it as well or as quickly, if at all, without
him and other trusted advisers like Captain Foggery."

"Speech! Speech!" called Marbleheart. He reached for
the last piece of banana cream pie.

Wong stood, tiny and delicate as a child yet somehow
strong and forceful, in the brilliant, warm subtropical sun-
light. A vagrant breeze from distant Sea stirred his silken
robe and ruffled his thin white beard.

"My friend and Emperor will be laboring for some time
to bring this huge land back to calm, justice, and good
government. There are bandits in the forests, pirates on
the coast, thieves in the cities, wicked magickers under
our loveliest hills. I will advise him and his people, and so
will my very good friend and fellow subject, the Geomancer
Litholt. I hope that, if you will find time in your busy lives,
you'll come back, singly or together, to lend your own
skills and wit. Or to just sit and enjoy jasmine tea under

Geomancer                 245

the fragrant peach trees in my garden."

"Ever and for ever'" called Flarman. He was lying flat on
his back, cradling his head on the Otter's soft flank. "You
can depend on us. Magician and Majesty!"

They all added their agreement.

"Now, Imperial Master," said Wong, "will you be upset
if I ask your leave to absent myself for a short while, a few
weeks hence? I have a wedding to attend."

Everybody, especially Mym and Douglas, shouted with
delight. The Emperor beamed, saying he gave his leave, but
only if he could come to the wedding, also.

"You are invited. Majesty!" cried Mym. "You'll find we
heartily enjoy ourselves at such celebrations at Wizards'
High in Valley."

"Come and welcome!" chimed in Flarman, rolling over
on his stomach.

Across the moats an old man in ragged trousers peddled
sweetmeats from a wheeled cart, smiling broadly at his
customers, most of them children.

"Hear that, boys and girls?" he chuckled. "An Empire
that has an Emperor who can laugh with friends on the
grass has a very special ruler, I can tell you!"

All around him the children, grown-ups, and even poor
old women and men peddling dried fish and green spun-
sugar floss joined in the laughter.

"Oh! Look!" cried a pretty ten-year-old girl dressed in
yellow. 'They're gone! All expect for the Magician and the
Emperor."

And so they were.

Chapter Twenty

^

Home to the High

"YOU what\" screeched Bronze Owl. "You invited
whoT

"Not the whole Dragon clan! Just the Grand Golden Dra-
gon and his great-great-great-great-grandnephew—a most
decent sort," said Marbleheart, shrinking from Owl's sud-
den wrath.

"Grandy will bring at least twenty others, 1 promise,"
howled Owl, spinning his head three times completely
around. "Where will we put them? Where, where, where?
They'll blanket the whole Valley! They'll eat everything in
sight! Do you have any idea how much a single Dragon eats
in a day!"

"Easy! Easy, old bird!" soothed the Sea Otter. "We can
handle it. Put 'em up in Parch. They'll like it there better
than anywhere else, I believe. Dragons prefer barren, deso-
late places, I hear from Black Flame."

"I suppose you're right," the harassed bronze bird agreed
reluctantly. He was perched at Flarman's study table, sur-
rounded by bales and stacks of paper covered with Plume
Pen's precise calligraphy, lists and checklists, memoranda,
notes, and diagrams.

Marbleheart, deciding the matter of the Dragons was
settled, scooted off to look for his friend Black Flame. It
was time for his daily Familiarity lesson.

He was replaced at the door to the study a minute later by

247

248 Don Callander

the new Master Wizard, bearing a double armload of enve-
lopes just brought from Trunkety by Postmaster Possumtai!
and three postal ponies.

"Owl, let me help you with these. I'm not at all busy at
the moment."

Bronze Owl accepted his offer gratefully and set the
young man to opening and sorting the day's mail into three
piles: "regrets," "acceptances," and "special handling."

"Here's 'regrets' from Pargeot," Douglas said. "He'd like
to come but the Town Council of Pfantas voted to send
Featherstone as its official representative. Pargeot says he
doesn't wish to steal the new Mayor's thunder."

"Huh!" Owl snorted. "He's still a bit smitten with your
bride, I'll wager."

"I don't think good old Pargeot is that small-minded,"
Douglas disagreed. "We know that Featherstone will be
coming, anyway. As Mayor of Pfantas, I suppose you'll
put him up here at the High?"

"No chance of that!" snorted the bird. "The cottage will
be crammed, packed full of really important people like
your mother and your father and the Manstars of Flowring.
And the Emperor of Choin, too. We can't very well put an
Emperor up in a Valley farmhouse, can we?"

"Actually, I don't think he'd mind that at all. He's not
that highfalutin, I assure you."

"Still, some protocol must be observed. Hmmmm!
Bryarmote wants to use the secret room over his fireplace.
That's agreeable. Few people know how to get behind the
fire wall, anyway."

"I'd worry more about the Fairies," said Flarman
Flowerstalk, popping his head through the door while
passing by. "Aedh and Marget Brightwing are at least
equal in rank to Emperor Phong. And they're bringing
the infant Justin Flowerbender with them. The little Prince
of Faerie must need a corps of nursemaids and launderers,
I suppose."

"I've already taken care of them," Owl assured him.
"Aedh has arranged to open a Fairy Gate for just this

Geomancer                 249

purpose, over near the First Ridge."

'They'll make a splendid sight riding down from the
hills for the wedding," exclaimed Douglas. "Can't we put
Featherstone up with Frenstil? They should be about equal
in rank, I'd say."

"Perfect solution!" cried the Owl, directing Plume Pen to
make the entry. "I was wondering with whom to saddle the
former Master of Horse, anyway."

The older Wizard laughed loudly and nodded with satis-
faction as he went his busy way.

"Any surprises in this batch that you can see?" asked
Owl.

Douglas skimmed rapidly through the 153 "acceptances,"
quickly evaluating the contents of each. "Oh, dear! Who the
dickens is Pride, do you remember?"

"Pride? Pride? Let me check my list," muttered Owl.
"Ah ha! He's Caspar's First Mate aboard Donation. Will
he come? I'll put him up with the delegation Thomwood
will bring from Capital."

" 'Wouldn't miss it for World,' he says," Douglas
quoted,

It took them better than an hour to catalog, enter, catego-
rize, and settle the accommodations of the day's responses.

"You go on, now," said the bronze bird at last. 'The rest
are merely clerical and I can do them tonight while you
flesh-and-blood types are asleep. Thank you for the help,
Master Wizard."

Douglas waved his hand as he disappeared through the
door. In a moment the Owl heard him clattering down the
winding stair.

Just like old times, when the young Wizard was a mere
Apprentice; small/or his age and a bit gawky, at that. Owl
thought. Eager to learn and interested in everything.

Turning back to the dwindling stack of "special handling"
correspondence. Owl swooped to pluck from the floor a
much-worn, brown, stained and dusty canvas packet, where
it had fallen unnoticed.

"How now?" he muttered. "This one's come a long way,

250 Don Callander

I think. No superscription. Addressed to Master Pyromancer
Flarman Flowerstalk. Ha! Doesn't anyone know how to
address a formal invitation anymore?"

He slit the heavy green wax seal with a sharp bronze
talon, opened the heavy canvas outer wrapper, took out the
enclosed letter, and began to read.

"Hoy! This is something entirely different! Must show it
to Flarman at once!"

Grasping the folded parchment tightly in his claws, he
launched himself from the table, straight through the study
door, and headlong down the stair.

Flarman Flowerstalk was contentedly boiling a frothy
magenta liquid in a fat glass flask over a hot blue-white
flame. He hummed under his breath the while, watching
the rising steam make arabesques in the Workshop's cool,
still air.

Black Flame and Marbleheart sat facing each other in
the dimness at the back of the vast Workshop. The torn
was expounding on ways to keep a Wizard under close
watch, an art at which he excelled. The two conversed
almost silently, with the lift of a paw or the wag of a tail,
a tilt of the head and a slow wink—ways cats have spoken
since the first cat first sat on a sunlit stoop.

Bronze Owl shot from the kitchen door opposite, nar-
rowly missing the well housing, and crashed to an untidy,
rattling landing on the tabletop near Flarman's experiment.
The pink steam patterns fluttered and dispersed at once.

"That took me all morning to accomplish, clumsy bird!"
cried the Wizard. "Well, too late to do anything about it
now. What's to do?"

"Read this, Magister!" the metal bird said, sounding short
of breath—which was not possible, since he didn't breathe
at all. "Read and tell me I did wrong!"

Flarman wiped his hands on his stained work smock and
picked up his reading glasses as the Owl handed him the
battered missive.

"Just came with the rest of the mail," explained Owl

Geomancer                  251

^
'i

i ;

to Black Flame and the Otter. "We almost overlooked it
among the wedding responses."

Flarman scanned the letter through quickly, studied the
signature, and sat abruptly on his stool to read it again, more
carefully.

'*! feared this," he groaned. "Well, there's not much we
can do at the moment. After the wedding trip... it may
be something that Mym could handle on her Journey. I'll
speak to Augurian about it when he returns from Waterand
tomorrow. Damme! I was hoping for a few quiet weeks—
at least until spring."

"What is it, Magister?" inquired Marbleheart.

"Nothing that need concern us just now," replied Flarman,
folding the letter and slipping it into his left sleeve. "It would
just upset a lot of people and might spoil the party."

"Yes, but is it something that should be put off, I won-
der?" asked Owl.

The Pyromancer scratched his bald pate, looked pensive-
ly into the distance for a moment, then shook his head, a
decision made.

"No, we won't mention it, fellows, until Douglas and
Mym are off on their wedding trip. Less than a week
off, now! We've had distractions and delays enough,
haven't we?"

"If you say so, Magister," said the Otter.

"If it isn't six things, it's a half a dozen others," mut-
tered the Wizard, clearing away the ruins of his experi-
ment.

Marbleheart looked at Black Flame with grave concern,
then the two of them left the Workshop to walk down to
the Brook through freshly fallen December snow conjured
especially by a certain Apprentice Aquamancer for her
Wedding. They quietly discussed this new development
until there was nothing left to say about it.

Bronze Owl went back to his letters and lists, shaking
his head in doubt.

Flarman summoned Deka the Wraith to carry a message
to Waterand Island.

252 Don Cailander

Everywhere at Wizards* High the excitement of antici-
pation was like the aroma of a fresh-baked apple pie,
cinnamony and sugary, sweet, tart and tantalizing.

Valley wives baked, roasted, broiled, simmered and pre-
served, cleaned and recleaned. Farmers selected their best
fruits and vegetables and grains and sent it off to Trunkety,
where a big, new post-and-beam warehouse was storing the
foodstuffs needed for the wedding.

Children in his class almost drove usually placid Frackett
frantic with their questions and plans. In self-defense he
took them out into the Common and set them to sculpting
snow statues—of Flarman and of Douglas and Mym, of
Augurian, and even Marbleheart, a great favorite already
with the young of Valley who didn't consider the Sea Otter
a clown at all.

Down Crooked Brook, near a tiny waterfall not yet fro-
zen, a deliriously happy Blue Jay nestling swooped and
looped, climbed and dived, laughing and shouting to his
amused nest mates.

His drab little Jay mother swept a happy tear from her eye
and his cocky father bobbed proudly at the neighbors before
he set off to gather some pine nuts as a special present for
Mistress Brightglade-to-be.

Blue Teakettle snapped her lid sharply at a silver-
polishing Cloth that had paused too long to chat with a
Dust Rag just returned from shaking itself at the court-
yard gate.

"Get back on them trays," Blue Teakettle rumbled. "Here!
You missed a spot on Butter Dish, too, right where Masters'
guests will see it, you can be sure. Where's Master Douglas's
hot cocoa? He's in the library, being fitted for his wedding
suit. Go take him and Master Tailor a platter of our best
sugar-and-oatmeal cookies. Tea Tray—the ones old Oven
let get a mite too brown. Taste just as good, but not as
pretty, I say!"

The Thatchmouse family was at work in a cool cellar,

Geomancer                 253

sampling and passing on the quality of a dozen or so big
wheels of robust yellow Valley cheese sent to the High from
the Valley Dairy Cooperative-

"I'm beginning to get tired of cheese," sighed Mama
Thatchmouse, shaking her head rapidly, as if to rid her
mouth of the taste of sharp yellow Valley, a semi-soft
slicing cheese, perfect for eating with soda crackers and
tomato soup.

"How can you say that!" cried her youngest child, buried
up to his backside in a round of pale ivory-colored church—
the holey cheese just arrived by ox cart from Douglas's
mother, Gloriana of Brightglade. "This is pure heaven!"

"It won't be if you make yourself sick before the
Wedding," his older sisters teased. 'Take a break, little
Woosney! Leave some of that church cheese for the Wed-
ding guests!"

Mama Thatchmouse shooed them all off to their beds
in the thatching over Douglas's bedroom, newly enlarged
and decorated with bright chintz curtains and billowy new
pillow shams on the bed.

Mama excused herself and went off to the wine cellar to
retrieve her husband. If he didn't leave off sampling the
fifteen great casks of Oak 'n' Bucket winter amber, she
said to herself, he'd be too ale-silly to climb to their own
bed that evening.

Besides, it sets a bad example for the children.

At Lilac and Priceless's cozy overbrook farmhouse, a
group of Valley-farm and Tninketytown wives and their
daughters sipped sweet cider and nibbled coconut wafers.
They circled around, watching and offering advice as Lilac
basted the final hem of Mym's flowing white, pearl-strewn
Wedding gown.

Mym stood on a footstool, straight but relaxed, ignoring
the bustle about her. She was silently reciting a mnemonic
poem that hid clues to tracking still waters running deep, a
difficult and demanding Aquamantic skill. She was sure it
would be part of her Master's Examination, when it came.

254 Don Callander

Lilac, her mouth stuffed with straight pins and her hands
so busy they seemed to blur, pinned and measured, stood
back to look, and pinned and measured some more, ignoring
the well-meaning chatter, also.

'The most beautiful Wedding gown ever seen in Valley!"
said an elderly granny, sniffing back a sentimental tear.

"In all Dukedom!" said Marietta, daughter of Dicksey,
the General Store proprietor. "I've been to Capital twice,
and I never saw the likes of this gown even at Thomwood
Duke's court, b'lieve me!"

Marietta enjoyed bragging about her distant travels. Her
father had taken her once as far as Wayness, far to the
south, right on Sea. Most of the ladies had never gone
farther than Farango Waters or up to the broad, grassy
north slopes when the flocks were summered.

"My Joel," said another housewife, "brought me a col-
ored picture of the Duchess, Thomwood Duke's mum. She
had on a flame red velvet gown that reached from chin tip
to toes! Gold piping and diamond embroidery, it had!"

The ladies exclaimed, as they always did when the Duch-
ess's red velvet gown was mentioned. .. about thrice a
week, these days.

"Speaking of embroidery," said Lilac, straightening up
with some difficulty and carefully spitting the remaining
pins into a glass dish so she could safely speak, "where
is that border lace you were working up, Milida?"

Milida ran to fetch the thirteen yards of most finely
tatted lace she had made for the gown. After everyone had
exclaimed at its delicacy and frothy whiteness. Lilac held
it up to the hem and bodice of Mym's gown and expertly
tacked it into position with neat rows of pins.

Mym, aroused from her spell study, bent to glance down
and exclaimed, "Oh, how exquisite! Oh, Milida! You do the
most splendid tatting!"

The tatter was so overwhelmed with gratification at the
Lady Apprentice's praise she had to go out onto the back
porch to regain her composure. She found orchardman
Priceless and Squire Frenstil standing together in the biting

Geomancer                  255

eventime chill, smoking their pipes.

"Lilac says she don't want the gown smelling like Hay-
seed's Best Latakea," Priceless chuckled. "Mistress Mym
never complained on it before, that I recall."

"No accounting for ladies fussing for a Wedding,"
observed the Squire. He was as close to Quality as Valley
boasted, having long ago been a Master of Horse in the
ducal household. "Well, must be off before it gets total
dark, friends. Have you carried that aged cider up for the
wedding, yet?"

"No, tomorrow I'll get Possumtail and his boys to help
me haul it over the Brook," decided the orchardman. "Best
year for apples and pears, too, since long before Flarman
ever came to Valley."

"For beef and lambs and porkers, too, thank goodness,"
said Frenstil, preparing to mount his favorite chestnut mare.
"We'd have trouble feeding this wedding crowd if it'd been
a worse year. Might have some shortfalls, at any rate,
as 'tis."

Priceless waved him off onto the Trunkety Road and
excused himself to Milida to go open the byre doors for his
small dairy herd, already standing patiently in the barnyard
waiting to be relieved of their milk and bedded down with
sweet hay from the loft.

Mym joined the ladies in oohing and aahing a few more
minutes before she pulled on her doubly furred coat and
snow boots for the walk back to the High.

"If you'll come by in the morning, not tomorrow, but
the next," said Lilac, kissing the Apprentice's rosy cheek
and giving her a grandmotherly squeeze, "we'll make final
adjustments in peace and I can look to your special night
things, as you asked me to do."

"Friday morning, then," agreed Mym. "Dear, wonderful
Lilac! What would I do without you! My mother sews a
fine sail, but she never learned to make such dresses as you
make, so easily and beautifully,"

"Oh, lots of the ladies could have done as well, I vow. I
was just the logical choice, as we lives so close by," Lilac

256 Don Callander

demurred—but she blushed with great pleasure-

"I'd have come to you for my gown, if you had lived
in Stony Gorge in midwinter!" the Flowring lass declared
with a bright laugh.

"Well, here it is midwinter," said the orchardman's elder-
ly wife. She hugged herself, feeling the bite of the cold.
She'd heard the tale of Mym's captivity by the Stone War-
riors, and shuddered at the thought. "Imagine how cold it is
up there right now!"

"Makes me feel quite toasty to be here," exclaimed the
bride. "I'll never complain of winter in Valley."

They stepped off the porch and met Priceless returning
from the byre, whistling cheerfully and swinging two ten-
gallon pails filled to the brim with steaming, creamy fresh
milk on a yoke across his shoulders.

"How is your supply of cream up there, missy?" he asked
Mym. "We've got more than we'll ever use on our peach
cobblers if Blue Teakettle needs more."

"I'll inquire, sir," said the Apprentice.

She gave him a quick peck on his whiskery cheek, smell-
ing the air about him of winter orchard, cows, cider press,
hayloft, milk shed, and Hayseed's Best Latakea, a comfort-
ably homey odor for all its diversity.

She skipped up the path from the gate to find Douglas
sitting on the front stoop in his shirtsleeves and open vest,
sipping cocoa and talking to Bronze Owl.

"You'll frost your fingers out here," Mym chided
playfully, plopping down beside him. "Do you realize that
my Wedding gown has fifty-two tiny pearl buttons down the
back? One for each week of a year. Lilac says. You'll undo
each one, one night very soon! Keep your fingers warm and
supple, please! Share the Hot Spell, darling Wizardling!"

Douglas blushed bright crimson, and in a moment she
was warm as toast, partly from his spell, and partly from
the arm he put about her.

The three sat in contented silence for the while, the
young people puffing clouds of pale breath-steam but not
attempting anything as demanding as blown rings.

Geomancer                 257

The Stones had been delivered from a wicked and ancient
enchantment. A new Wizard had joined—and an old Wiz-
ard rejoined—the Fellowship of Wizards. Marbleheart Sea
Otter proved a useful, talented, and companionable Famili-
ar—and a good friend to them all.

Party was roundly pregnant again, and pleased as punch
about her condition—as happy as Black Flame was proud
and Pert was envious.

Despite the mysterious letter, everything was as perfect
as it could possibly be. Owl thought. And a new adven-
ture on the horizon wasn't the worst that could happen
to them.

That's what Wizardry is all about, after all, he said, but
the bride and groom didn't hear his words of wisdom for
he said them to himself.