Forging the Darksword - Margaret Weis [107]
Andon nodded, his face darkening. “Simkin. Yes. Now there’s someone—Blachloch, I mean—who could tell you more about the young man, I believe. Simkin seems to spend a great deal of time with the warlock. Not that Blachloch would answer your questions, mind you. A true Duuk-tsarith, that one. I have often wondered what he did to cause them to cast him out of that dread Order.” The old man shivered.
“But”—Saryon looked around at the numerous dwellings and small shops that lined the streets of the village—“there are many of you here and only one of him. Why—”
“—didn’t we fight him?” The old man shook his head sadly. “Have you ever been apprehended by the Enforcers? Have you ever felt the touch of their hands upon you, draining you of Life like a spider drains it victim of blood? No need to reply, Father. If you have, you understand. And—as to us? Yes, we are many, but we are not one. That you may not understand now, but you will come to in time.” The old man changed the subject abruptly. “But if you’re still interested in Simkin, you might discuss him with the two young men who share his dwelling place.”
Seeing that Andon was obviously intent on leading the conversation away from the former Enforcer, Saryon let the matter drop and returned once more, and not reluctantly, to Simkin, saying that he would be interested to meet his friends.
“Joram and Mosiah are their names,” remarked Andon. “You might have heard of Mosiah from his father since you lived for a time in Walren—” Glancing at the catalyst, he stopped suddenly in concern. “Why, how pale you are, Father. I was afraid this outing might be overdoing things a bit. Would you like to sit down? We’re near the park.”
“Yes, thank you,” Saryon said, though he wasn’t in the least tired. So Simkin had been telling the truth when he said he and Joram were friends. And those voices in his room he’d heard when he had been ill. Joram … Mosiah … Simkin ….
“They’re working now—Mosiah and Joram, that is. Simkin’s never turned a hand that anyone’s seen,” Andon said, helping Saryon to a seat on a bench in the cool shadow of a large spreading oak tree. “Are you feeling better, Father? I can send for the Healer …”
“No, thank you,” Saryon murmured. “You were right. I have heard of Mosiah. I’ve heard of Joram, too, of course,” he added in a low voice.
“An unusual young man,” said Andon. “I presume that since you are from Walren, you heard about the murder of the overseer?”
Saryon nodded, afraid to speak, afraid of saying too much.
The old man sighed. “We knew of it, too, of course. Word spread rapidly. Some among us viewed him as a hero. Some thought he would be a useful tool.” Andon glanced darkly at the large brick building on the hill. “That, in fact, was why he was brought here.”
“And you?” Saryon asked. He had come to have a profound respect for this gentle, wise man. “What do you think of Joram?”
“I fear him,” Andon admitted with a smile. “That may sound strange to you, Father, coming from a Sorcerer of the Dark Arts. Yes”—he patted Saryon’s hand—“I know much of what you have been thinking. I see the horror and revulsion on your face.”
“It—it is just hard for me to accept—” Saryon stammered, flushing.
“I understand. You are not alone. Many who come to us feel the same way. Mosiah, for example, still finds it difficult, I think, to live among us and accept our ways.”
“But, about Joram,” Saryon said hesitantly, wondering if his interest seemed too suspicious. “Were you right? Is he to be feared?” The catalyst felt chilled, and waited anxiously for the response. But when it came, it wasn’t what he had expected.
“I don’t know,” Andon said softly. “He has lived among us a year, and I feel I know less about him than I do you, whom I have known only a few days. Fear him? Yes, I fear him, but not for the reason you might think. And I’m not the only one.” Andon’s gaze went, once again, to the brick building on the hill.
“An Enforcer? Afraid of a seventeen-year-old boy?” Saryon looked skeptical.
“Oh, he wouldn’t admit it, maybe not even to himself. But he does or, if