leave everybody behind.'
'I seen 'em dump as many as twenty out of a band, ma'am, and that's a fact,' the farmer said, scratching his head. 'And there has been a lot of sickness and famine this winter, what with this consarn weather.'
'Maybe,' Ingold said again. 'But on the whole, the Raiders regard disease as an internal weakness of the will, rather than as an incursion from the outside. The Raiders don't see things the way we do. Sometimes they fear some very odd things. But in any case, there is something out there; and against it - and against all other ills of the road may you be safe, Kara of Ippit, and those who walk in your shadow.' Reaching out, he made a swift sign above her head. 'A good outcome to your journeyings.'
She smiled shyly and repeated his sign. 'And to yours sir.'
With this they parted, Rudy and Ingold continuing on their road, Kara and her village on theirs. The dust of the train swamped the two pilgrims, and they found themselves for a time surrounded in a white fog, moving among the crowding shapes of wagons, weaving among women, children, chickens, and goats. Craftsmen passed them with barrows full of tools, farmers bearing ploughs upon their backs, and makeshift warriors with swords and halberds. Dogs drove sheep along the fringes of the train, amid a faint, flat clatter of bells. More than one villager raised hands in greeting as the two wizards passed. An old granny knitting in the back of a wagon croaked cheerily, 'You're headed the wrong way, boys!' Kara's voice was faintly heard to exclaim in shocked disapproval, 'Mother!'
Rudy grinned. 'So that's an untaught mage, than which there's nothing in the world more dangerous?
'She knows her own limitations.' Ingold smiled at the memory of that shy, homely woman. 'As a rule, half-taught mages are worse even than the untaught, but she has the goodness of heart that wizards often lack. Among wizards she is an exception, in her way.'
'Is she?
Ingold shrugged. 'Wizards are not nice people, Rudy. Kindliness of heart is seldom the leading characteristic of a mage. Most of us are proud as Satan, especially those with only a few months' training. That's the reason for the Council. Something must exist to counterbalance the effects of the knowledge that you can, in fact, alter the paths of the universe. Haven't you felt it that euphoria that conies with knowing that you can braid fire in your hands and twist the winds of Heaven to your bidding?'
Rudy shot him an uneasy glance and met eyes that were far too knowing and a smile of wicked amusement at having read his mind. He grumbled unwillingly, 'Yeah -well - I mean, so what?'
The last of the herds was passing them, the whitish dust skating on the wind. Under a featureless sky, the stony emptiness stretched away to nothing. 'So what indeed?' Ingold smiled. 'Except that the ecstasy of power has a terrible way of getting out of hand. The Council and the Archmage have their work cut out for them to hold in check, not the power itself, but the souls of those who wield it.'
Rudy thought for a moment about that, remembering the feeling that had sprung to his heart when he called fire, the quick, gleeful sparkle of triumph when his illusions worked. And he saw suddenly the trailhead of a path that could lead to evil past contemplating. But it was evil he understood. It was seeking knowledge for the sake of knowledge and power for power's sake, leaving Minalde to search for his own destiny, and staying in that hidden chamber to fathom a crystal's mysteries, while Ingold faced death and the Keep's destruction outside. He saw in himself the potential for unchecked power.
Even as his mind shied from that thought, he wondered, Does Ingold feel it, too? Does Lohiro? Like a young and golden dragon, with those empty, glittering eyes, the picture of the Archmage returned to him. Has he wrestled with the ecstasy of unlimited horizons?
He must have, Rudy thought, // they made him Archmage. The most powerful wizard in the world, master of all the others. You really have to have your act together to stay straight under the weight of that one. Power-pure power. The rush from that must outdo any drug ever formulated.
'How long does it take?' he asked. 'How long do you have to study at Quo?'
'Most people stay there three to five years,' the old