Taran Wanderer

The wizard straightened and drew the grimy, threadbare robe closer about his wasted body. Taran gasped, for from Morda's withered neck hung a silver chain and crescent moon. Only one other he knew wore such an ornament: Princess Eilonwy Daughter of Angharad. Unlike Eilonwy's, the horns of this crescent held a strangely carved gem, clear as water, whose facets sparkled as though lit by an inner fire.

"The emblem of the House of Llyr!" Taran cried.

Morda started and drew back. With fingers lean as spider's legs he clutched at the gem. "Fool," he hissed, "did you think to gain this from me? Is that why you were sent? Yes, yes," he muttered, "so it must be." His bloodless lips twitched faintly as he fixed Taran with his unlidded eyes. "Too late. The Princess Angharad is long dead, and all its secrets are mine."

Taran stared at him, bewildered to hear the name. "Angharad Daughter of Regat?" he whispered. "Eilonwy never knew her mother's fate. But it was you― at your hands," he burst out, "at your hands she met her death!"

Morda said nothing for a time, seeming as one gripped by a black dream. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with hatred. "Think you the life or death of one of you feeble creatures should concern me? I have seen enough of the human kind and have judged them for what they are: lower than beasts, blind and witless, quarrelsome, caught up in their own small cares. They are eaten by pride and senseless striving; they lie, cheat, and betray one another. Yes, I was born among the race of men. A human!" He spat the word scornfully. "But long have I known it is not my destiny to be one with them, and long have I dwelt apart from their bickerings and jealousies, their little losses and their little gains."

Deep in their shrunken sockets the wizard's eyes glittered. "As I would not debase myself to share their lives, neither would I share their deaths. Alone, I studied the arts of enchantment. From the ancient lore I learned the Fair Folk held certain gems hidden in their secret troves; he who possessed one gained life far longer than any mortal's mayfly span of days. None had found these treasure troves, and few had even dared to search. Yet I knew that I would learn the means to find them.

"As for her who called herself Angharad of Llyr," the wizard continued, "of a winter's night she begged refuge in my dwelling, claiming her infant         daughter had been stolen, that she had journeyed long in search of her." The wizard's lips twisted. "As if her fate or the fate of a girl child mattered to me. For food and shelter she offered me the trinket she wore at her throat. I had no need to bargain; it was already mine, for too weak was she, too fevered to keep it from me if I chose to take it. She did not live out the night."

In loathing Taran turned his face away. "You took her life, as surely as if you put a dagger in her heart."

Morda's sharp, bitter laugh was like dry sticks breaking. "I did not ask her to come here. Her life was worth no more to me than the book of empty pages I found among her possessions. Though in its way the book proved to be not without some small value. In time a whining weakling found his way to me. Glew was his name, and he sought to make an enchanter of himself. Little fool! He beseeched me to sell him a magic spell, an amulet, a secret word of power. Sniveling upstart! It pleased me to teach him a lesson. I sold him the empty book and warned him not to open it or look upon it until he had traveled far from here lest the spells vanish."

"Glew!" Taran murmured. "So it was you who cheated him."

"Like all your kind," answered Morda, "his own greed and ambition cheated him, not I. His fate I know not, nor do I care to know. This much he surely learned: The arts of enchantment are not bought with gold."

"Nor stolen through heartlessness and evil, as you robbed the Princess Angharad," Taran flung back.

"Heartlessness? Evil?" said Morda. "These words are toys for creatures such as you. To me they mean nothing; my powers have borne me beyond them. The book served to make a fool taste his folly. But the jewel, the jewel served me, as all things will do at the end. The woman Angharad had told me the gem would lighten burdens and ease harsh tasks. And so it did, though years I spent in probing its secrets until I gained mastery of its use. At my command it dwindled the heaviest faggots to no more than twigs. With the gem's help I raised a wall of thorns. As my skill grew, I found the waters of a hidden spring."

The wizard's unblinking eyes glittered triumphantly. "At last," he whispered, "at last the gem led me to what I had ever sought: a Fair Folk treasure trove.

"This trove held none of the life-giving stones," Morda went on. "But what matter! If not here, then would I find them elsewhere. Now all Fair Folk treasure, mines, hidden pathways― all lay open to me.