The Wizardwar - Elaine Cunningham [75]
But these boys could expect to learn a trade, wed a neighbor's daughter, build a cottage they might call their own, and raise children who would know who their parents were. For the jordaini, there would be no family. This was ensured by a final secret rite, a so-called "purification ritual" inflicted before they left for the wide world. Thanks to Kiva's machinations, another man had taken Matteo's place. The elf woman's experience with human males had left her believing that Matteo would disgrace himself and his order, given half a chance.
As Matteo rode through the jordaini lands, he searched the faces of every young man he passed. He didn't really expect to find the man who'd taken his place, of course, and after a while his thoughts shifted to calculating the odds against this occurrence. He was therefore surprised when his gaze fell upon a man whose hair was the same color as his, a dark and distinctive chestnut rarely seen in the southlands.
He reined his horse in for a closer look. The man was standing at the side of the road, gazing morosely at something in the high grasses. A low, wooden cart listed to one side on a broken wheel. Two piebald carthorses took advantage of the small disaster to nibble at the roadside meadow flowers.
The young man was tall and strongly built, much like Matteo in general size and appearance. On close examination his features were not all that similar, but the unusual richness of red in his hair drew the eye and cast a powerful illusion.
Matteo called out a greeting. "May I help you, brother?"
"Don't see how. The wheel splintered in that rut and the thrice-bedamned millstone tipped off the cart," the peasant grumbled. He glanced up, and immediately sank into the deep bow that showed proper respect for wizards and their jordaini counselors.
Matteo brushed aside the stammered apologies and asked the man's name.
A look of apprehension crept over the young man's face at being singled out in this fashion, but he didn't hesitate.
"Benn," he supplied. "Of village Falaria."
"All problems have solutions, Benn, and yours is easier than most. I see you carry an extra wheel," Matteo noted as he swung down from his horse.
"What fool wouldn't? The wheel's the least of it. Getting that millstone back in the cart-that's what I call a problem."
He looked surprised when Matteo peeled off his white tunic and began to drag the heavy wooden wheel off the cart, but he fell to work beside the jordain.
In short order they had the new wheel in place, and then they stood side by side eyeing the millstone.
"Too heavy for two men," concluded the peasant.
Matteo's gaze fell upon a pair of long, stout oak oars lashed to the side of the cart. "Not necessarily. A Halruaan sage once claimed that he could lift the entire world, provided he had a lever long enough."
"Easy to say, hard to prove," Benn observed. "For starters, where would he stand?"
Matteo laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "An excellent point.
Let's see what we can manage, short of standing on the moon and using Yggdrasil, the Northmen's world tree, as a lever."
Together they rolled a likely boulder to use as a fulcrum. Ben guided the horses and cart into position, backing up little by little as Matteo used the oar to raise the millstone. At last he lowered one edge of the stone onto the low cart, then moved the fulcrum into position to lever up the far side.
When the task was done, Benn handed Matteo a goatskin of wine. Matteo tipped it back for a polite sip. As he lowered it, he noticed the peasant eyeing him appraisingly.
"No offense intended, my lord, but we might be mistaken for brothers."
Matteo was silent for several moments, not sure what good might come of taking the path this observation opened. "Perhaps, in certain lights and under certain extraordinary circumstances, we might even be mistaken for