The Sorcerer's Widow. Lawrence Watt-Evans

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СКАЧАТЬ trinkets he might have had.”

      “Honestly, I’m fine,” Dorna said. “I haven’t decided yet what to do with his things. There’s no hurry.”

      “Oh, of course, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you,” Ezak said. “You take your time, all you want, and you can find us when you’ve decided. Meanwhile, dear Irien, you said you have a room? Even if we’ve missed the funeral, we’ve no need to rush off—this is such lovely country around here! Such fresh air!” He thumped both fists on his chest as he drew a deep breath.

      Kel watched this without comment, and did not imitate his friend; he thought the air out here smelled funny.

      “I have a room, if you have money,” Irien said.

      “Of course.” Ezak jingled the purse on his belt. Kel knew half the “coins” in it were just metal scraps Ezak had picked off a tinker’s floor, but the innkeeper didn’t.

      “This way,” she said, gesturing.

      The two men picked up their packs and followed her into the inn.

      Ten minutes later they were alone in a stuffy gable room overlooking the village square, Irien having promised to bring them up a pitcher of wash water. Ezak opened the casement, then settled onto the surprisingly-generous bed.

      “I don’t think the widow recognized your name,” Kel said, as he looked out the open window at the brown dirt square, the white and brown houses, and the endless green fields beyond.

      “Of course not,” Ezak said. “I never met this Nabal. My uncle knew him because they did some trading, that’s all.”

      Kel had suspected that, and he had indeed partly meant that Nabal had apparently never mentioned Ezak, but he had also been relieved that Uncle Vezalis hadn’t, either. “You said you knew the sorcerer.”

      “I lied. I want her to trust us. It’ll make it easier to get all his magical things away from her.”

      Kel had feared that it was all lies. He knew that Ezak had never been apprenticed to a sorcerer. He had hoped there might be some trace of truth in the story, but apparently there was not. “It’s funny that you lie to her to make her trust you.”

      “Well, life can be strange. It seems to work that way.”

      A bird sang outside the window. Kel spotted it on a nearby cornice, and did not recognize it as any sort he had ever seen before. Most of the birds he was familiar with were sea birds, and would not be found this far inland. “Thank you for not telling her my full name,” he said.

      “You’re welcome. What should I tell her if she asks, though? There could be half a dozen people named Kelder around here; she may want an appellation.”

      “Anything. Just not Kelder the Blabbermouth.”

      “Or Kelder the Bastard, either. We’ll just say Kelder of Ethshar, then?“

      “That’s good.” He watched as the bird flew away, then asked, “Are you going to steal the sorcerer’s things?”

      “I’m hoping I can convince her to give them to me, or maybe sell them to me cheap, but I’ll steal them if I can’t get them any other way.”

      “I don’t want another flogging.”

      “I don’t want you to get one. I don’t intend to get caught this time.”

      “You didn’t intend to get caught last time.”

      “Well, I didn’t get caught, did I?“

      “But I did.”

      “Yes, and thank you again for not telling anyone it was my idea.”

      Kel turned up a palm. “It wouldn’t have done any good. They were going to flog me anyway. I didn’t want to be a blabbermouth.”

      “Thank you, all the same. So what did you think of the sorcerer’s widow?”

      Kel considered that for a long moment before replying, “She isn’t very pretty.”

      “She isn’t ugly, either, and I suppose old Nabal didn’t have much to choose from out here in the middle of nowhere. She probably looked better when she was younger.”

      “Maybe he didn’t worry about looks.”

      Ezak grimaced. “He was a sorcerer—the only magician in the village, maybe the only one in the entire region. He must have had his pick of all the girls here, so she must have been the best available. Which doesn’t say much for the local women, does it?”

      “Maybe she’s smart, instead of pretty.”

      Ezak snorted. “If she was smart, would she be living out here? This Nabal couldn’t have been all that bright, either, even if he was a sorcerer.”

      “Then how did he get to be a sorcerer?”

      Ezak turned up an empty palm, then fell back onto the bed, where he lay staring up at the carved beams of the ceiling. “He served an apprenticeship, like anyone else. You don’t need to be a genius to get through six years of running a master’s errands, or nine, or whatever it is for sorcerers. All you need to call yourself a sorcerer is your master’s say-so and a talisman or two.” He glanced toward the window. “But according to my uncle, this one had a lot more than one or two. Uncle Vezalis said this fellow had dozens of talismans he’d picked up somewhere. Those are what we’re after. This Nabal claimed he’d found a cache of stuff some Northerners hid during the Great War, but he was probably just trying to make it sound better than it was. I’d guess he inherited them when his master died.” He flung himself back on the bed.

      “His master died?”

      “I assume so. I don’t really know.”

      “You said you served under the same master—shouldn’t you know whether he died?”

      Ezak raised his head to glare at his friend. “Blood and death, Kel, I don’t even know his name! If anyone asks us about him, we’re just going to have to be vague, and change the subject as quickly as we can.”

      Kel considered that for a long moment, then said, “I don’t think coming here was a good idea, Ezak.”

      “What are you talking about? Of course it’s a good idea! A poor country widow with a houseful of sorcery and no children—we’ll be rich!”

      “You’re sure she has no children?”

      “Uncle Vezalis said the sorcerer was childless.”

      Kel considered this for a moment, imagining possibilities Uncle Vezalis might have missed—stepchildren, estranged children, siblings, cousins, in-laws, and so on—that could complicate matters. Then he said, “I don’t like your story, Ezak. I don’t think you know enough to fool her.”

      Ezak sat up to stare at his companion more easily. “I most certainly do,” he said. “I don’t need to know the master’s name; I can just call him ‘Master.’ And I don’t need to know whether he СКАЧАТЬ