A Sudden Wild Magic

The centaurs seemed to know at once which cousin Michael meant— the one with the birthright. They fell back respectfully, and most of them stopped talking. In near-silence, Michael dragged Tod around to the other side of the house, where there was a narrower lawn — if possible, even more crowded with centaurs — which gave onto the marshes. The grove was a small hill crowned with silver birches, reached by a narrow causeway, about a hundred yards out into the marsh. Pushing among all these silent, staring centaurs, the cousins were embarrassed at saying anything private. Neither spoke until they had passed the last few centaurs stamping and wheeling at the end of the path and had hurried out onto the causeway. Then Michael said, “Ye gods, I’m glad to see you! I simply didn’t credit my mother when she said you’d be coming. After all these years! And I still don’t really believe she has Sight! Silly, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Tod. “I find it hard to believe too. When did this ghost-thing appear?”

“Midmorning. One of my centaur boat hands saw it and raised an outcry. And you know the way centaurs look after their own — there are centaurs here from the Neck of Orthe now — but I don’t blame them. It is worrying. You’ll see. And by the way, where did you get that peculiar hairy garment you’re wearing?”

Tod plucked at Brother Tony’s large sweater. He had forgotten all about it. “This — otherworld.”

“You’re joking!” said Michael.

“I assure you,” Tod said, “I am not. I was in otherworld this morning, or last night, or something. Appalling cold, wet place full of beastly buildings. This thing’s called a jumper. If you can lend me some proper clothes, you can have it as a souvenir.”

“Thank you,” Michael said. “It looks perfect for sailing in.”

They reached the sandy hill of the grove and scrambled up it. From the time he was halfway up, Tod could see the white transparent figure of a centaur within, among the white boles of the birches. It was weaving and trampling this way and that, distressed, mindless, neurotic — something was wrong, that was plain. Tod hurried. The bodiless state of the apparition made the mad effect worse as he got nearer. The weavings and duckings took the centaur-shape straight through trees and even through the small altar by the pool, although the soundless hooves never once touched the bubbling waters of the spring itself. Mad or not, the specter was reverent. It was, Tod thought as he trod cautiously between the peeling white tree trunks, the shape of a centaur naturally white or gray. There was no dark on it anywhere, except perhaps — The apparition wove around toward him, and he saw that half its face was dappled.

“Josh!” he exclaimed. “Josh, what’s wrong? Are you dead?”

To his great relief, the transparent eyes focused on him. The face broke into a worried smile, and the misty torso sagged. Josh’s voice came to him, faint and far away. “Tod! Thank the Goddess! Can you hear me?”

“Clearly but small,” Tod said. “Where are you?”

“Just a moment,” said Josh. The apparition stood still, closed its eyes, and frowned. As it did so, it became milk-thick, then thick as whitewash, almost solid. Josh’s eyes opened again. “That’s better,” his voice said, and he sounded much nearer and stronger. “I’ve been sending myself to all the groves I could reach,” he said apologetically. “And trying to face in all directions while I did it. I’m nearly worn-out. No one seems to hear me. Tod, I’m in trouble. I’m in a grove in Leathe, on the estate of a woman called Marceny—”

“Marceny!” Tod exclaimed. “Josh, she’s the very worst! What in hellspoke are you doing there?”

“Zillah got us out of Arth — the Goddess alone knows how she did it,” Josh told him. “She used some kind of wild magic, and it was so strong that they all knew and were waiting for us. They’re besieging me in the grove now. They keep trying new ways to get me out, and they’re damned strong—”

“And Zillah?” Tod interrupted. “With you?”

“No,” said Josh, at which Tod’s stomach behaved as if he were crossing a hump bridge. “No, they got her, and the baby, and Philo — and you know what they do with gualdians—”

“I’ve heard — ye gods!” Tod was afraid he might be sick. But that would do Josh no good. “Hang on,” he said. “Don’t waste any more strength with sendings. Just stick in that grove like a leech, Josh, and we’ll find some way to get you out. There’s half a thousand centaurs here who can’t wait to help. We’ll do something. Just hang on.”

“I will,” said Josh. “I’d be all right if I wasn’t having to send. I was praying that they’d recall you. I’m so glad they did.”

“Recall me?” said Tod. “They didn’t. I came back by myself. I’m thoroughly illegal, and my father’s going to have to bail me out, but it won’t stop me getting to you.”

“You’re not illegal,” Josh said eagerly. “At least, I’m fairly sure you’re not. I’ve been thinking through Arth Service Laws to stop the people outside getting to my mind — and I started wishing I could tell you.