Here and Now
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Jendrich gestured to Giacomo to put the bung back in its place.
“Here they are... Never mind: Jas will douse them with wine and they’ll melt. We’ll hole up. Well, kid, just the time for you to make noise, for the Maintz men to take us on the spot. Eh?”
The youth shuddered again, as if from a slap. Even in the unsteady light of the candle it was seen that he blushed. Anger? Shame?
“You shouldn’t say so, mister Jendrich...”
“Oh, I’m so very sorry! And who was it that threatened to sell us out when we didn’t want to take him into the hideout?”
“I was scared...”
“Scared he was! With rats we have a short talk. A knife in the belly and the bowels on a branch. Tell us, what’s there between you and the margrave Siegfried?”
“I...” The youth felt confused under the intent glances fixed on him. “I... I can’t be captured, by no means! I was going to your prince, to Razimir of Opolie. Look, take me to Wrozlav! You can do it! Surely you know all the paths!”
“What, you have a bag full of golden amulets? The prince will be awfully glad to see you! Gold for us, you for him. The last hope, that is.”
“I have no amulets. I’ve given the last one to the taverner. And as for hope... Maybe the truth is yours. I’m the only hope. Opolie won’t stand against Maintz...”
“Young man, are you experienced in military art?” Giacomo Seingalt curved his brow sarcastically. “Are you a strategist? Do you suppose the prince Razimir will appoint you commander?”
“You are mocking me. But I must! I want to give the prince this...”
The youth opened his bag, began to rustle with the rags. There came to light a casket – shabby, triangular, marked in black, red and yellow chequers like a buffoon’s tights. Its paint had peeled off in some places, its edges were severely beaten. In addition to the casket in the bag there was a big hourglass.
“A game, is it?” the chieftain made a contemptuous grimace.
Giacomo nodded with confidence: “The ‘Triple Nornscoll’, or ‘Cheat the Fate’. I would play it in my time... We may amuse ourselves now, one way or another we’ll be sitting here doing nothing for a long time. Will you play, Jendrich? And you, young man? By the way, don’t you want to introduce yourself to your fellows in misfortune?”
“Forgive me... My name is Martzin, Martzin Oblaz from the free city of Holne. From the former free city. But this is not an ordinary game. It has belonged to Byarn the Pensive.”
“The mage from Holne?!”
“Yes.”
“What a rogue you are, lad! Stole the game from Byarn himself?! First he snitched the amulet, then the game! Or all at once? You’re desperate, and a doctor too... Want to join my gang?” It was hard to understand whether the chieftain was joking, mocking or talking seriously.
“It would be better if I really stole it...” whispered Martzin faintly, lowering his eyes.
“Didn’t steal? So where did you get it?”
“This is a legacy. My teacher Byarn the Pensive died last week.”
“Died?! Tell more lies! Mages – they live for a thousand years!”
“Unfortunately, you are mistaken. Meister Byarn had a weak heart... I know this better than many others.”
“Heart? Why didn’t he make himself healthy with magic and be over with it?”
“Oh, mister Jendrich,” Martzin sighed heavily. The flame of the candle flickered, queer shadows swayed along the walls, and the hideout seemed for a moment unreal – as if the next moment it would flow like fog and disperse. “Don’t mistake a mage for God. The magic of healing uses the healer’s own power. This is not alike spells or taming of the elements. One cannot heal one’s own heart. And I... I’m just learning. Was learning.”
“So how old was he, Byarn? Five hundred years? Seven hundred?”
“Seventy two.”
“A liar you are, kid! My old man lived up to ninety. And there you’ve got a mage!”
“You may not believe me, but I’m telling the truth.” The youth pursed his lips, offended.
“Begging your pardon for interrupting your absorbing discussion, but it seems that you, young man, wanted to expound to us the secret of your legacy. Why do you want to deliver this game to Wrozlav? Or do you hope that while practicing ‘Triple Nornscoll’ Razimir of Opolie will find the method of winning the war with the Maintz Mark?”
“Strange as it is, you’ve almost guessed, mister Seingalt. Meister Byarn had made this ‘Nornscoll’ in his youth, soon after he finished studying with his teacher. With the help of this game...” Martzin became more and more excited, obviously hesitating: to tell more or to keep silent? His voice was trembling, drops of sweat appeared on his forehead. “With its help it’s possible to play again... to change anything! Any event that took place in the past can be turned back! Not to allow the war to begin at all. To change its course. Do you understand me?!”
“To change? And your mage, that is, died all of a sudden?” Jendrich squinted unbelievingly. “He’d do better to play again our sinful life, to save Holne, to win for himself some hundred years! You’re hiding something, student...”
“You are simplifying everything. Anyone can use the ‘Triple Nornscoll’ but its creator. In the hands of meister Byarn the game would lose its power.”
“So he should have given it to your burgomaster. Or to a commander.”
“I’ve suggested this to the teacher. But he refused. When Holne had already fallen, the teacher was considering sending me to the prince Razimir. But he lingered, hesitated... I don’t know why. Then I found him dead. The heart... And then I decided myself...”
“Well, those mages, of course... Nothing’s clear, in short. They don’t know themselves what they want. But you here – you’re our fellow! Put the Maintz men above there to sleep! And we’ll get out, knife them all, take their horses – and to the forest. Straight to the prince Razimir, to deliver him your game. Come on, Martzin! Make your magic!”
“I can’t,” the youth threw up his hands with a guilty look. “I studied only for three years. I learnt only to cause rain, and that with hail, too. The hail’s all right, it’s big, but the rain... The teacher would laugh: you, Martzin, he would say, lack anger for a heavy downpour. A duffer you are...”