Free The warlock insane by Christopher Stasheff Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
thought—a relief, in a way. "Just return the favor to the next person in trouble you meet—if you can be sure it's not a scam. What were you doing out in the forest, anyway?"
"Gathering hazel branches, to make charcoal for mine forge. And thou?" Rod squirmed uncomfortably. "Deserting, I suppose you could say. Who do you think set those snares?"
"I've little doubt," Modwis returned. "It must needs be a sorcerer, for who else could hold sway over silver, to make it strike like a snake?"
Rod nodded. "Makes sense. I was kinda hoping chains didn't behave like that by themselves here."
"Here?" Modwis frowned. "Whence comest thou, mortal?"
"From another world," Rod explained. "It happens, now and then."
•
"An thou sayest it, I'll believe thee." But the frown deepened. "How didst thou come to Granclarte?"
"By magic—and not entirely reluctantly, I'll admit."
At that Modwis smiled. "Nay, surely—for who'd not wish to sojourn in Granclarte, an he could? Yet Page 46
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whom didst thou desert?"
"My wife and children," Rod answered honestly. "I've gone a little crazy, see, and I never know when I'm gonna turn mean—so I took myself off where I couldn't hurt them. Which is by way of serving you warning, too."
"Well, I am warned." The frown settled back into place. "And 'tis this madness which hath brought thee hither?"
Rod nodded.
"Then must I bless it, for thy coming was timely for me—yet I'd fain return thee to thy wife and babes. Assuming thou dost wish it." Modwis scowled. "Dost thou?" The question took Rod by surprise. He suppressed the natural assent, unsure whether it was genuine or conditioned. Instead, he pursed his lips, stared up at the forest canopy, and searched his feelings. "I do," he said slowly, "but I must admit I wouldn't mind taking my time about it." Modwis rumbled; Rod assumed it was amusement, but he couldn't tell through the whiskers. Either amusement or a nervous stomach. "Then let us seek a means of returning thee, for 'tis like to take long enough in the finding. Was the magic that brought thee here good or ill? There lies the nubbin."
"Well, whoever did it, I don't think he had my good in mind."
"Yet perchance did have ours. Yet I think it may be that he who laid the snares for me laid another sort for thee."
"I'm limed, then. Have any particular trapper in mind?"
"Aye." Modwis looked grim. "He dwells to the east, in a ruined castle perched high on a crag, and all the countryside about him abides in corruption and putrefaction. Vultures are his nightingales, and carrion jackals his dogs."
"Sounds like a real charmer. Does this nice guy have a name?"
"Gormlin is he called, though few dare say his name openly." Modwis glowered off to the east. "Yet I do, for I'm sworn to find his bane! Gormlin, an thou canst hear, do thy worst! For I'll yet find a means of bringing thy foul castle down on thy head!"
Modwis was silent, taut, as though expecting an answer. Rod found that he was, too, and shifted in his seat just to break the mood. "Any, uh, particular reason why you've got it in for him? Or do you just have an obsession about destroying evil?"
"There is that, but there is the other, too," Modwis growled. "There was a maiden, Rod Gallowglass, and though there was no chance that she might smile upon me, yet I ached to do all that I might to bring her happiness."
"And she was stolen away by Brume?"
"Aye, and none know her fate. I will tear that castle down stone by stone if I must, I shall free her or learn of her death! That, though it take all my life!"
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"Valiantly said," Rod said softly. "Can I help?"
" 'Tis not thy coil, Rod Gallowglass."
"Maybe not," Rod said slowly, "but weren't you working your way up to telling me Gormlin might have been the one who brought me here?"
Modwis was silent.
"Or that someone else might
"Gathering hazel branches, to make charcoal for mine forge. And thou?" Rod squirmed uncomfortably. "Deserting, I suppose you could say. Who do you think set those snares?"
"I've little doubt," Modwis returned. "It must needs be a sorcerer, for who else could hold sway over silver, to make it strike like a snake?"
Rod nodded. "Makes sense. I was kinda hoping chains didn't behave like that by themselves here."
"Here?" Modwis frowned. "Whence comest thou, mortal?"
"From another world," Rod explained. "It happens, now and then."
•
"An thou sayest it, I'll believe thee." But the frown deepened. "How didst thou come to Granclarte?"
"By magic—and not entirely reluctantly, I'll admit."
At that Modwis smiled. "Nay, surely—for who'd not wish to sojourn in Granclarte, an he could? Yet Page 46
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
whom didst thou desert?"
"My wife and children," Rod answered honestly. "I've gone a little crazy, see, and I never know when I'm gonna turn mean—so I took myself off where I couldn't hurt them. Which is by way of serving you warning, too."
"Well, I am warned." The frown settled back into place. "And 'tis this madness which hath brought thee hither?"
Rod nodded.
"Then must I bless it, for thy coming was timely for me—yet I'd fain return thee to thy wife and babes. Assuming thou dost wish it." Modwis scowled. "Dost thou?" The question took Rod by surprise. He suppressed the natural assent, unsure whether it was genuine or conditioned. Instead, he pursed his lips, stared up at the forest canopy, and searched his feelings. "I do," he said slowly, "but I must admit I wouldn't mind taking my time about it." Modwis rumbled; Rod assumed it was amusement, but he couldn't tell through the whiskers. Either amusement or a nervous stomach. "Then let us seek a means of returning thee, for 'tis like to take long enough in the finding. Was the magic that brought thee here good or ill? There lies the nubbin."
"Well, whoever did it, I don't think he had my good in mind."
"Yet perchance did have ours. Yet I think it may be that he who laid the snares for me laid another sort for thee."
"I'm limed, then. Have any particular trapper in mind?"
"Aye." Modwis looked grim. "He dwells to the east, in a ruined castle perched high on a crag, and all the countryside about him abides in corruption and putrefaction. Vultures are his nightingales, and carrion jackals his dogs."
"Sounds like a real charmer. Does this nice guy have a name?"
"Gormlin is he called, though few dare say his name openly." Modwis glowered off to the east. "Yet I do, for I'm sworn to find his bane! Gormlin, an thou canst hear, do thy worst! For I'll yet find a means of bringing thy foul castle down on thy head!"
Modwis was silent, taut, as though expecting an answer. Rod found that he was, too, and shifted in his seat just to break the mood. "Any, uh, particular reason why you've got it in for him? Or do you just have an obsession about destroying evil?"
"There is that, but there is the other, too," Modwis growled. "There was a maiden, Rod Gallowglass, and though there was no chance that she might smile upon me, yet I ached to do all that I might to bring her happiness."
"And she was stolen away by Brume?"
"Aye, and none know her fate. I will tear that castle down stone by stone if I must, I shall free her or learn of her death! That, though it take all my life!"
Page 47
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"Valiantly said," Rod said softly. "Can I help?"
" 'Tis not thy coil, Rod Gallowglass."
"Maybe not," Rod said slowly, "but weren't you working your way up to telling me Gormlin might have been the one who brought me here?"
Modwis was silent.
"Or that someone else might
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