"I'm not doubting you, never that!" To my surprise, Sashan was all at once fairly quivering with eagerness. "It's just... lady, we have no wizard. Or rather, we don't have one any more."
At my raised brow, he added, "His name was Tiern; he'd grown up near here and returned to us a full wizard—not much older than you, lady. But he kept us safe enough for all his youth."
I couldn't see why a village should need a wizard rather than some competent wise woman, but I guessed that living surrounded by all that natural forest magic made folks edgy. "What happened to him?"
"Ah. Um. We're not sure. Tiern was... well, he wasn't the friendliest of folks, kind of cold. He was always at his books, always studying and hunting new spells."
Not surprising; fierce curiosity was the wizard's boon and bane. "He found something too strong for him, eh?"
Sashan bit his lip. "You'd know more of that than me, lady. All I can tell you is this: he was up to something last Lammas Night. We found him in the morning, stark dead with not a mark on him." Sashan shivered. "Lady, since that dark day, there hasn't been anyone able to weave us any protective spells."
"You're offering me a job."
"Ah, yes. You can have Tiern's house—it's a fine one," he hurried on, "very comfortable, yes, and all his magic gear, too. Lots of books, scrolls, that sort of thing." Sashan stopped short. "Lady, I'll be blunt. We can't offer gold or much in the way of city pleasures. What we can give you is food and a nice, clean place to live. And our gratitude and, I hope, friendship."
I thought of what I'd seen so far, the attractive little village, the cheerful, rural folk. Folk who would have their quarrels, yes, their petty feuds, perhaps. But folk who had never seen the land turned to blazing mud, or their fellows melted into—
"I'll be honest with you," I said to cut off the memories. "I've come from the War." His blank stare was reassuring. "Never mind which war," I continued. "Let's just say it was a very ugly one involving war magics."
"And you're worn out," he said to my surprise. "Need healing."
"Sashan, I couldn't work a master spell right now to save my life."
"Your magic will return?"
"Yes. With time."
Sashan's smile was wide and warm. "Time we've got. We've waited this long for a wizard, we can wait a little longer. What say you? We'll give you our protection, you give us yours."
To my embarrassed horror, I almost burst into tears of sheer relief. Sanctuary. And hopefully healing. "Yes," I told him shakily. "Yes."
The late Tiern's house was just as I'd been promised: small, maybe, but well-made, with not a draft or a drip. It smelled sweetly of herbs; plainly the villagers hadn't been too afraid of Tiern's death to keep his house clean. The floor was earth, hard-packed to a sheen almost as smooth as glass, and covered with rugs of woven cloth. I found a mirror of precious glass lying on a table, caught a glimpse of my face (amazed to see how young it still looked, how unmarked; surely there should be something terrible marking the smooth skin, something besides weariness in the dark eyes). The bed bore a good feather mattress and the walls bore shelves crowded with jars and vials, books and scrolls. I took one book down, frowned at the title. Tiern had been truly ambitious! I gingerly returned "Demonic Summonings and Banishments of the Third Level" to its place beside "The Many Ways of Transformation" and "Ardenic's Key to Night-Altered Spells." An intriguing collection that would bear careful investigation.
Later. Right now, the bed was just too inviting. I pulled off my clothes and was asleep almost literally before my head hit the herb-stuffed pillow.
How long has it been? How long have I been bound to this place, unable to speak, unable to free myself, unable to do more than wait? Time means little to one in my sorry condition, not-alive, not-dead, and yet I am still aware that the seasons turn, still aware that every day brings me closer to perilous Lammas Night. The night when, if none aid, I will cease to be. There is no one in the village to guess the truth, none who bear even the smallest trace of mage. (None save that dimly sensed Other who'd brought us both to such a sorry pass, and that one would never be of aid to me, oh never.)
I know despair.
* * *
I woke blinking and bewildered, the morning sun blazing into my eyes from the window I'd forgotten to shutter. Where was this place...? A house... Tiern's house... Woodedge...
Ah. Yes. Woodedge, and I was their new wizard. I sat up, brushing wild strands of hair out of my eyes. What an odd dream! But it had been a most welcome change from the usual nightmares of war and death.
In the days that followed, I found something wonderfully soothing in healing small harms, a child's wrenched ankle or a baker's scorched hand, in listening to the daily babble of small matters, in knowing that folk here respected but never feared me or my slowly recovering powers.
But my dreams were another matter. Not truly frightening. Merely... odd.