Journeyman (A Wizard's Life) (14 page)

Benen wondered if this variant had been tried as a method of scrying on wizards: by targeting the location rather than the person, it might bypass the special protection wizards enjoyed. He decided he would look into this at a later time, he was too excited for the moment at the possibility of seeing his sister Esren and her children — especially the little girl he had met so many years ago: Hilda. Of course, Hilda would be a woman grown with her own children now, he realized.

The spell required a basin filled with water to serve as a sort of window that would show the person or location being scried upon. Benen bent over the basin he had prepared and performed the spell. In his mind, along with the details of the moon and the Parallels, Benen pictured the location he wanted the magic to show. When he was finished casting, he felt the familiar surge of power through his body;
something
had happened.

When he looked at the water, he could see through it his childhood home, as though the basin was a hole hovering far above the house. With a little mental effort, Benen could move it and he did so, displacing it into the house itself, seeking anyone familiar.

Even just seeing the home of his youth had ruined Benen’s emotional equilibrium.

What would my life have been like had I not been Gifted?
he could not help but wonder as he looked at the place of his childhood.

As he moved his viewpoint through the rooms of the house, he saw many faces he was not familiar with; this came as no surprise to Benen, given that a whole generation had been born and raised since he had last been part of the family. Still, he had expected he would be able to find and recognize Esren.

He
did
find many young girls and women bearing a strong resemblance to his sister. Others resembled his mother and aunts in startling little details. It was eerie to see these young and vibrant women with his mother’s eyes or his father’s chin. Most disturbing of all were the occasional family members who resembled Benen himself.

Would my own children have looked like these men and women?
he wondered.

His sorrow at the loss of his child with Sania had been buried deep, but dwelling on such topics was bound to unearth those feelings. Benen tore himself away from such thoughts for his own good. He moved his point of view more quickly, scanning now for Esren herself.

Why are there so many adults in the house? Surely they don’t all live there,
he thought.

The family home usually passed to the eldest son and became his family’s home until he passed it on to his own eldest son. In their case, the house would have passed to Esren in Benen’s absence. Her own eldest son would inherit it on her death, but Benen hoped this was still years away. These extra family members had to be at the family home for a special occasion of some sort. Looking at the expressions, Benen guessed it was not a celebration, but rather a solemn event.

Finally, he found Esren; she was in the master bedroom, lying on the bed.

He was shocked by how
old
she looked.

Of course, he himself was nearing fifty summers, so she would be in her mid-fifties. Many of the common folk were not lucky enough to make it past forty summer, but Benen’s family was wealthy and healthy enough that they rarely died before their late sixties. Despite all this, when Benen saw the state Esren was in, he was certain she was to be the exception for his family. She was so thin as to be skeletal. Her skin stretched taut over this bony frame, was dry and nearly transparent. What hair she had remaining was chalk white. Benen could not bear to look at Esren’s eyes; they were cloudy and showed none of the lively mind he had known.

Upset, Benen dispelled the scrying effect and sank into a chair, unable to reconcile the Esren he had just seen with the sister from his memories. This was how Timmon found him, late that night, having come looking for him.

“Is everything all right, Benen?” the ghost asked.

“No. Yes. I don’t know . . .” Benen wasn’t sure how he should feel.

His sister was dying.

He had known he would have to face this eventually. He simply hadn’t thought it would be so soon. He had hoped that with his new scrying magic he would be able to keep an eye on her and her descendants, that he would be able to be close to them, even if they did not know it.

But Esren was key.

These others were strangers without her to bring meaning to them for him.

“She’s all that’s left . . .”

“I’m sorry, you seem upset.” Timmon came closer to Benen and saw how haggard he looked. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Benen just wanted to be alone at that moment. “My sister is dying, Timmon. I’m mourning her. Can I please do this alone?”

“Dying or dead?” Timmon asked.

“ . . . dying,” Benen answered slowly.

“Is there nothing you can do for her? You
are
a wizard, Benen. You gave me — a ghost — a body to live in. Surely you can help a dying woman you care so much for?”

Thoughts and plans formed in Benen’s mind then. There were so many possibilities. He thanked Timmon for the reminder and returned to scrying on Esren. He verified that she was alone for many hours in the night.

He planned a flight that would take him to Oster’s Gift and his sister, the next night.

#

Benen had no difficulty entering the house unseen. He had learnt many tricks over the years, but this was not a new trick so much as a different use for a trick he had known a long time. He used shape-shifting magic to make himself into a completely black version of himself. This made sure no one saw him approach the house. Then, he entered through the master bedroom’s open window, using flight magic from the Pinnacle to fly up and through it.

Esren was asleep when he arrived and Benen made sure to be quiet so as not to wake her. Casting silently, he changed himself back to his usual colouring; he did not want to startle his sister when he did wake her.

This accomplished, he then set out to do the first of the things he planned on doing for Esren. He cast, still silently though it cost him, a healing spell on her. This was the broadest sort of healing — Benen did not know what was wrong with his sister — but he hoped it would be of help to her.

As the energies of the spell ravaged Benen, he managed to keep his attention on Esren’s sleeping form. He was not sure if any improvement had actually happened; he saw nothing visually different about her. He guessed the healing spell had been of no use and sighed.

Although it was not a loud sigh, it did cause Esren to stir and gradually wake up.

She did not notice Benen at first. She had opened her eyes, but was looking at one of her hands and flexing it in front of her face in the darkness. Benen saw that her eyes seemed clearer than when he had scried upon her the night before. Perhaps his healing spell
had
done something to help Esren’s condition.

His sister turned her head slightly and saw the shadowy shape standing beside her bed and gave a little cry of alarm.

“Esren, it’s me,” he whispered to her in a hurry.

“Benny?” She stared at him, squinting in the darkness. Her voice, he noted, was the reedy voice of an old woman now, not the voice he had known so well in his childhood.

“Yes.” he said simply. He came closer so she could see him. Her eyes widened as they took in his long white hair and unkempt beard. She reached for him, her arm shaking as she extended her hand toward his. He clasped her hand and she smiled.

“It’s been so long . . .” she said. “I’ve missed you so much . . .” She could not say more as emotion choked her. Benen could see tears running down her face. When she could speak again, she said, “Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

The question hurt Benen, there was accusation in it.

“I didn’t know I could . . . didn’t think I should . . . you had all moved on. I was dead to you.” The last words were difficult for Benen to get out, he too was overwhelmed by emotion. “You have no idea what a wizard’s life is like, Ezzy.”

Esren reached out with her other hand and touched his face with it. “You’re here now, that’s all that counts. Tell me of this wizard’s life of yours, I want to know my brother again.”

Benen did tell her then, starting with his abuse at the hands of Oster, detailing the gruelling, torturous years he spent under his master’s tutelage. Esren laughed when he spoke of Orafin the talking rat and cried when Benen described how betrayed he had felt when he had found the rat was really Oster all along.

He told her of his attempts to make wizards accepted and how this had landed him a wife. He spoke of Sania, describing her to Esren, telling her what she had been like. When it came time for him to speak of the end of that period of his life, he could not go on. The grief he had buried welled up and a tightness in his throat made it hard for him to breathe, let alone speak.

Esren held him then, sitting up, she said, for the first time in two years. She took a turn telling Benen of her own life after he had been taken by the wizard.

“Father and mother never truly recovered from losing you, Benny. I could see that they felt guilty, that they felt they had sold you out and that they should have fought for you.”

A part of Benen had always resented that they had not fought for him. He felt guilty now for being pleased that his parents had regretted not fighting for him.

Esren told him their mother had died in her sixties and father had followed her the next winter. After that, she moved on to happier topics. She spoke of her now deceased husband and how they had met and fallen in love. She told Benen of each of her children and then each of her grand-children.

Benen fought down jealousy; he had wanted a life like this. Instead he treasured every niece and nephew, every grand-niece and grand-nephew. Benen marvelled at the size of his family.

After this, the two sat holding each other for a time, enjoying just being with one another after so many years of separation. This serenity was broken by a racking cough from Esren. Benen saw blood on her handkerchief.

“What’s wrong with you, Ezzy?”

“Something with my lungs,” she told him. “My time is coming up soon, Benny.” She did not seem afraid when she said it.

“I healed you, with magic,” he said.

“I didn’t know for certain, but I suspected it. My eyes are better than they’ve been in years and my hands don’t hurt like they did.”

“I can do more, Esren,” he told her.

“Benen, no. Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m
old
Benen. I’ve lived my life. I’m ready to move on to what’s next.”

“But what if there isn’t anything else?” Benen argued.

“Oh Benen, there is. There has to be. This life is too cruel for this to be all there is.” After saying this, Esren was wracked by another round of coughing. Benen contemplated healing his sister against her will. He wanted to hold on to her, no matter what. He knew he could probably heal whatever was wrong with her lungs. Even better, he thought he might be able to use the life-extension magic wizards used on themselves to extend his sister’s life.

“I don’t want you to go.” As Benen said this, he felt seven summers old again, losing his sister, his parents, his village.

“You’ll be fine, Benny,” she said. “You’re a great wizard now. I know you’ll do great things: you’re my brother. Besides, Benen, you’ll join us all on the other side soon enough.”

“Not soon at all,” he told her. “Wizards live a
long
time Ezzy, I’ll probably live another seven hundred years or more.”

Esren stared at him. “That’s a big number.”

“I don’t want to face those years alone, Ezzy. I can heal you, I can make you live longer.”

“I’m not a wizard, Benny. My years are done. It sounds like the Creator has other plans for you, though. You have to let him guide you, Benen.”

“I’m not even sure I believe in him . . .”

“Then believe in yourself,” she told him. “When you leave here tonight, make big plans and do them. You were taken from us for a reason, Benen. Make your life as a wizard count.”

“I’ve tried, Ezzy.”

Benen told Esren of the people living in his Oasis and she approved of this.

“Do more, make us proud. If you have to be a wizard, be the best there ever was.”

Benen nodded.

They spent a few more hours telling each other stories from their lives and enjoying being with one another.

Benen left her when dawn came and the house began to stir.

That night when he scried upon the house, he saw that Esren had passed during the day.

Timmon heard his howls of grief and wisely left him alone for the night.

The next morning Benen was grim but determined. He left his tower to seek Oster.

CHAPTER 7: ASPIRANT

Benen flew, fast as he could, in the direction of Osteria. Thankfully, Oster’s domain was not far. It, like Benen’s domain, was a former part of the desolation. The main difference being that Osteria was reclaimed centuries before.