The Steward and the Sorcerer James Peart (read my book .TXT) 📖

the Northern Territories.  When the town prospered, the elders moved here from the river and had this square built.  Pretty, isn’t it?  Drett Peers bought this home a number of years ago.  They tried to stop the sale at first, then later tried to have him evicted.”

“Why was that?” Simon asked.

“Because his money is new, because he sometimes earns his living from illicit trade.  Mostly I think it is because he works in Dhu Nor.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, the town itself, really.  I can see Daaynan hasn’t told you about it.”  Simon and Christopher both looked at the Druid yet the other made no effort to respond.  “It’s a vile place, filled with the worst kind of lowlifes you could imagine.  Thieves and cutthroats, for the most part, and that’s what passes for the respectable sort in Dhu Nor.  There are individuals there who traffic young women from the south; in fact, a lot of the wealth of the town comes from this kind of trade.  When you compare the value of goods there with other towns, it is really a small city.”

The door before them opened slightly.  A small, wiry looking individual of indeterminate age peeked out at them from the interior of the house.  “Mereka?” he said upon noticing the crossling.  “None other, old friend,” Mereka said in greeting. The two men embraced, holding each other for a long moment.  When he finally released his grip, Mereka gestured at the sorcerer and his company.  “These are friends of mine from long back.”  “Daaynan, Simon, Christopher: this is Crank.  He works for Drett in various capacities: healer, minder, cleaner...”  “And general dogsbody, don’t forget,” Crank grinned.  “Come in, come in, or can’t you stay long?”  He glanced apprehensively at the tall form of the Druid.  “We would like to.  We’re looking for Drett.  Can we find him here?”

“Not today.  He is in Dhu Nor and won’t be back until the end of the week.  Will I arrange to have a message sent to him?”

“That’s not necessary.  Daaynan has something to trade and wants to meet him in person.  He’s in Dhu Nor?”

“Yes,” Crank said, looking at the Druid with curiosity and something else.  Fear, Simon thought, reflecting on how the man that led them inspired little else in people on short acquaintance.  “It’s about four hours on foot,” Mereka was saying.  “Half an hour if you’ve got horses.  Drett can be found in the Axe and Stump.”

“We don’t,” Daaynan said, “but we shall still reach the town before nightfall.”  Crank nodded.  “You’re welcome to come in, rest yourselves a little before you set out.”

Mereka shook his head.  “They need to be away soon.”

“I see.  There’s food in the larder.  I’m pretty sure it hasn’t spoiled yet.  You’re welcome to take some.”

“We will, and thank you,” Mereka said with heartfelt good grace.  “And Crank?  If I don’t see you again soon, I want to wish you the best and thank you for the many kindnesses you’ve shown me over the years.”  Mereka hugged the man once more, a lingering embrace he was reluctant to finish.  Crank reciprocated the gesture yet looked vaguely puzzled.  Christopher whispered to Simon “is he going somewhere after this?”  “I would say he is” Simon whispered back.  “After his transformation he’ll probably be leaving Carasan for good.  Can’t say I blame him.  Even if Daaynan manages to change him successfully into a woman, the townspeople will still have a memory of what he once was.  That would be hard to live with.”

They accepted gifts of dried fruit and bread and flasks of ale, then said their goodbyes on the doorstep of Drett Peers’ house.  They set out for Dhu Nor, walking toward the river Tun that led them north to the outskirts of Carasan and into a lowland valley beyond it.  It was Mereka’s idea that he should accompany them into this mountain cove where the Druid could employ his magic unseen.  Unwilling to remain on the valley floor, he led them into a cove forest that climbed partway up one side of the mountain.  They walked beneath a high canopy of trees, beneath great maples, birches, ash and hickory.  Birds and small mammals darted and flew past them as they travelled, the occasional salamander skirting past their feet, lifting its blunt snout to sniff at the intruders before disappearing into the scrub.  The forest bed was damp in the aftermath of the storm and rainwater sluiced off low hanging canopy leaves onto their hoods and cloaks.  They stopped at a small, slanted clearing where Mereka turned to face the others, his features pinched tight, looking both frightened and exhilarated.  “Do it now, Daaynan,” he said softly, “before I change my mind.”

The Druid stepped toward him, motioning the others to stand back, batting his cloak at the same time to rid it of water.  His eyes found Mereka’s, his dark, angular face conflicting with the compassionate look in his regard.  “There is no reason to be afraid,” he told the other.  “Just remain still.”  He lifted his arms in a broad circle, keeping his gaze focused on Mereka, the other transfixed, rooted to the spot.  For a long moment, nothing happened, the sorcerer and the crossling seemingly frozen in suspended time.  Then an arc of flame, grey in colour, almost transparent, burst from the Druid’s fingers, streaming toward the other, coiling and twisting around Mereka’s form.  It snapped around his face, obscuring it from vision, a fluid veil that appeared from the outside to siphon the bearer’s flesh.  Pieces of what looked like skin filled the membranous veil that had attached itself to Mereka, pulsing greedily as it tore at the integrity of his face and he released a thin, high scream before falling silent.  Simon and Christopher, watching on in horror, thought he must have fainted from the shock of it but they could see nothing beyond a mass of shifting tissue, cloth and what looked like fragments of bone.  It continued for what seemed