“Also, we have many reports that this new magic of yours is already at work on the Fringe of the Wild Wood.”
“That would be ddt, the magic protection spell I hacked up,” Wiz told him.
“The reports of the hedge witches and other wizards are somewhat confusing. I want to see what is going on through your eyes.”
“Yes, Lord. Uh, what about Moira?”
“I am sure she is safe. If she returns while you are gone, I will tell her where you are.
“I will send a journeyman wizard with you. You will leave tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, it would be best if you were to stay out of sight.” He looked down at Wiz. “And take something for that hangover.”
This close to the Capital, the woods were carefully tended tree lots rather than the raw forest of the Wild Wood. But the trees still shut out prying eyes and the relative isolation made prying magic easy to sense. That was the important thing.
Ebrion made his way to the middle of the grove. He looked around cautiously, extended his magical senses for any hint of watcher and then extended his arm, finger pointing south.
As if on cue, a tiny bird flickered through the trees and landed on his outstretched finger. To the eye it was an ordinary wren, speckled brown on brown. A magician would have sensed instantly that it was no ordinary bird, but part of the reason for meeting in the woods was to keep the bird away from other magicians.
The bird cocked its head to one side and regarded the wizard with a beady eye.
The Sparrow has left the Capital, Ebrion thought at the bird. He is to be gone perhaps four days and then he will return along the Wizard’s Way. Be ready for him.
He paused and then continued.
One thing more. Your attempts to arrange an accident for the Sparrow have been discovered. I told you I would not have him harmed. Persist and our bargain is broken.
The wren took wing and flashed through the trees. The wizard waited until it rose above the treetops and turned straight south. Then he nodded and started back to the Capital.
Six : Applications Magic
Applications programming is a race between software engineers, who strive to produce idiot-proof programs, and the Universe which strives to produce bigger idiots.
—software engineers’ saying
So far the Universe is winning.
—applications programmers’ saying
Wiz’s travelling companion was a wizard named Philomen, a slender young man with an aristocratic bearing and a reserved manner. Wiz had met him briefly, but he didn’t know him and he couldn’t remember seeing him in any of his classes.
As was custom, they did not walk the Wizard’s Way straight into the village. Instead they arrived on a hill where the road topped the rise to look down at Leafmarsh Meadow. From here the village looked neat and peaceful, spread out along the road that ran to the Leafmarsh Brook and crossed to run deeper into the fringe. This side of the river was a neat pattern of fields and pastureland. The Fringe started on the other side of the water and there the land was mostly forest, although Wiz noted a number of fields, obviously freshly hacked in the ancient woodland.
Towering over the village was a hill of naked gray granite. It seemed to be a single enormous boulder, placed as if a careless giant had dropped it next to the river. Even to Wiz’s relatively untrained senses there was something about the huge rock that hinted of magic.
“This will be my first real trip out of the Capital in almost a year,” Wiz said in an effort to make conversation as they started down the hill toward the village.
“Indeed?” Philomen said. “You will find much changed, I think.”
Wiz didn’t have any good answer to that, so they walked along in a silence for a bit.
“Do you have any idea why they wanted help from the Council?”
“None, Lord. If they did not tell one of the Mighty, do you think they would tell one barely raised from apprentice?”
“No, I guess not,” Wiz said. “Well, we’ll know soon enough. That’s the hedge witch’s cottage there.”