“Nay, not so!” Simon spoke sternly. “Tis only this handful of miserable recreants who do evil to their fellow men! Belike they are unable to gain fellowship of other men and women, and blame their loneliness not on themselves, but on the other folk, who do not befriend them. I doubt me not an they do tell themselves the goodfolk envy them their magic, and therefore spurn all witches. Thus do they reason out some license for themselves to steal, and lord it over other folk.”
Rod was impressed. He hadn’t expected such insight, in an average yeoman.
Neither had the sergeant. He stared up at Simon, wide-eyed. “How well thou dost know them!”
“As well I should.” Simon’s mouth tightened at the corners. “For I am myself a warlock. But!” He held up a palm, to stop the sergeant’s startled oath. “But like the greater number of my fellows, I have learned the ways of hiding all my powers, and deal with other folk as well as any man. I have had a wife who was not a witch. Together, we reared children who, though they had some Power, learned well to hide it, and have grown up in the liking of their fellows. We do not seek for power; we do not seek for wealth. We have already what we most care for—the good regard of others.”
The sergeant’s mouth went crooked. “An thou hast so deep a regard for we humble common folk, why canst thou not ward us from these evil ones?”
“Why, so they did,” Simon answered, “those warlocks and witches who had real power. I knew one crone who was a healer—many had she mended in both mind and body; and I have known warlocks, gentle men who did speak with those whose minds were laboring in confusion, or disarranged, and led them out into the light of sanity again. But I myself?” He shrugged. “My powers were never so great. I have known warlocks who can disappear, and appear again some miles distant, and I have heard of some who can make their thoughts be heard in others’ minds—aye, even those who are not witches. But I?” He shook his head, with a sad smile. “I am none of these. I have power, aye; yet it is weak and feeble—enough to prevent my being a man, like other men, yet not enough to make me a warlock like to other warlocks. Neither fish nor flesh, I know not where to nest. Oh, I can hear what others think if they are near to me—but that is all. I did not know I could do more…” his smile hardened, “…until Alfar did bind with his spell, boys from mine own village—and they did drop their hoes, and turn to march away toward his castle, for his army, I doubt not. I ran after one, and caught him by the arm. ‘Whither dost thou go?’ I cried; but he turned sneering to me, and raised his fist, to strike me away. Yet…” and Simon’s lips curved in a small smile, “…I have some skill in arms. I fended off his blow, and struck ere he could draw his fist again, and I did stretch the poor lad senseless upon the road. And whiles he lay thus, unwillingly in slumber, I knelt beside him, frantic in my need, crying out to him, ‘Wake! Dost’a not see thou art ensorceled?’ For this was my neighbor’s son, look you, who had been my children’s playfellow. I could not stand aside to let the sorcerer take him while breath yet passed within my lungs. With every grain of my poor, puny witch power, I did seek to reach and wake his slumbering mind, where it lay ‘neath Alfar’s spell.”
The sergeant stared at him, round-eyed. “And did he waken?”
Simon nodded, closing his eyes. “He did. Praise Heaven, for he did. And when his body likewise woke, he sat up bewildered, for he’d no notion how he’d come to be there, lying in the midroad, half a league from home. I took him back to his father; yet I bethought me that what I could do for one, I might so hap to do for others. Thus, when any boy from our village did gain that far-off gaze and wander toward the High Road in a trance, I followed, struck him down, and woke his mind; and when the spell began to wrap itself around my neighbors’ minds also, I waited till night fell, and they slumbered, then passed from house to house, standing against the wall and seeking to wake them from their enchantments. At length I fell ill from exhaustion—but my village held, alone free from the weird.
“And so, at last—two days agone—a warlock came himself, a meager, pimply-faced lad, but with soldiers at his back. Then I could do naught; the boys all marched away; yet, at the least, their parents saw they were compelled.”
“Yet did the warlock not seek thee out?”
Simon shrugged. “He did attempt it; for with a whole village yet free-minded, he knew there must needs be a witch or warlock who had prevented it. Yet as I’ve told thee, my power’s weak; I can only hear thoughts. And that I was adept at hiding what little force I had. I was careful not to think of witch powers, or spell breaking; I thought only of suspicion, and how much I did resent Alfar’s dominion.” He shook his head slowly. “He could not find me; for every mind in all that hamlet thought as I did.”
“And this was but two days agone?” the sergeant cried.
“Two days,” Simon confirmed.
“Then ‘tis months that thou hast held thy neighbors’ minds ‘gainst Alfar’s spell!”
“It is. Yet in all comely truth, ‘tis not till now that Alfar’s had soldiers to spare for such an errand.”
“Aye.” The sergeant’s face hardened again. “Yet with the Duke captured, he could spare the men, and the time—for all present threats were laid.”
“I doubt it not. Yet I assure thee, I did tremble with relief when that warlock passed from our village.
“Then I bethought me that I’d cheated Death quite long enow. Nay, I reasoned that I’d done my part, and had escaped thus far more by luck than skill—and, in comely truth, my daughter doth draw near to her confinement. Accordingly, I sought the better part of valor, and turned my steps southward, hoping I might break from his evil-seized, ensorceled realm into the free air of Earl Tudor’s county.”
He turned to Rod. “And I have come near—so near! Tis but a half day’s journey now, is’t not?”
Rod nodded. “Guards at the border, though. You’d have trouble getting across.”
Simon smiled, amused. “Not I.”
“Aye.” The soldier gave him an appraising glance. “Thou hast something of the look of the wild stag about thee. I doubt not an thou couldst find thy freedom through the forest trails, where no sentry’s eye doth watch.”
“Just so. Yet I think I must not go.”
“Nay!” The sergeant leaned forward. “Go thou must! Make good thine escape whilst thou may!”
“And if I do? Wilt thou?”
The sergeant lowered his gaze. “I must go back—for I’ve blood on mine hands, and must atone.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” Simon snorted. “These deaths were Alfar’s doing, and none of thine. Do thou make thine escape, to join King Tuan’s army, and march back to take thy vengeance ‘gainst the sorcerer.”
The sergeant shook his head. “Nay. ‘Twould take too long. And… if we journey north again, my men and I, and take our places amidst the sorcerer’s force—then there will be peasant lives spared, when next they send out to sweep the roads. And when King Tuan comes, there will be swords to fight for him, within the sorcerer’s ranks.”
“ ‘Tis worthy,” Simon mused.
“And stupid!” Rod snorted. “The first warlock who runs a security check on the army, listening for traitorous thoughts, will find you out. All you’ll accomplish is an early execution.”
The sergeant glared at him, then turned back to Simon. “Canst thou not teach us the way of hiding our thoughts?”
“I can tell thee the way of it,” Simon said slowly, “yet ‘tis not quickly learned. It will require constant practice—and never mayest thou relent. Such vigilance is well-nigh impossible, for one who hath but newly learned. Thou mayest quite easily be found out.”
“Then give them choice,” the sergeant said. “Wake them from their spellbound sleep, and say to them what thou hast said to me. I doubt me not that all of them will choose as I do—to ride back North.”