Lawrence Watt-Evans - Relics of War

Garander Grondars son looked out the barns loft door at the forest beyond the north field. The first traces of autumn color were starting to appear, and what had been a solid wall of green was now speckled with gold. Soon enough the leaves would fall, and the snows would come, and he and his parents and his sisters would spend most of their time huddled around the hearth.

Garander suspected that far too much of that time he would be listening to his parents argue about where the border should be drawn, and who they and the nearby village would owe allegiance to. He was not looking forward to that.

At least the harvest had been good, and they had gotten it all in; barring disaster, they would have more than enough bread to last the winter. He had learned the winter before last that listening to the adults argue politics was even less fun on an empty stomach.

He braced himself with one hand on the door frame and leaned out, looking up at the northern sky. It was clear and intensely blue. He lowered his gaze again, down across the sky, across the changing leaves, to the shadows beneath the trees-and there he caught a flash of color that was not turning leaves. That distinctive splash of red and white was his little sisters tunic, he was sure.

Ishta, you little idiot, Garander muttered to himself. He turned away and half-climbed, half-slid down the ladder to the dirt floor, then trotted out the door and around to the east side of the barn, where he stopped and looked north.

He spotted her immediately. There was his youngest sister, Ishta Dark Eyes, just emerging from the line of trees that marked the farms northern limit.

Hai! he called. Ishta!

She started at the sound of his voice, then froze. He started toward her.

She spotted him, and relaxed slightly when she saw it was her brother, and not her father, who had seen her. Hello, Garander, she said. Look what I found! She held out her hand.

He did not look at it immediately; he was looking her over, making sure she didnt have twigs in her hair, or marks on her clothing that would give her away to their parents. She was wearing her favorite red-and-white tunic belted at the waist, a pair of oxhide slippers on her feet, and nothing else-she was still too young to have added a womans skirt, so her legs were bare from knees to ankles. If Father found out youd been in the woods again he began.

Then he finally noticed what she was holding out toward him. His eyes widened, and he drew in his breath. By all the gods, Ishta, he said. What is that?

I dont know, she said cheerfully. I found it in the forest. She held it up to his face, to give him a better view.

The object was about the size of a plum, but a little flatter and wider. Most of it was as smooth as glass, and as black as their mothers onyx pendant, but on one side was a golden oval, and that oval was glowing, as bright as the finest candle. Garander stared at it in wonder.

If you look closely, you can see things moving in there, Ishta said proudly.

Garander peered at the glowing oval, and he saw that his sister was right-there were small shapes dimly visible through the golden light, sliding back and forth.

Where did you find it? Garander asked.

That way, Ishta said, waving in a generally northeasterly direction. It was under a pile of leaves.

There wasnt anyone around who might have put it there?

No, silly. Im not a thief. It was all dirty; it must have been there for ages. I cleaned it off. She pulled her handkerchief out of her tunic pocket with her other hand, and Garander saw it was smeared with black dirt. The glowing thing itself was as shiny and clean as if it had just been polished, but he did not doubt his sister for an instant; she would not have thought to dirty her handkerchief. Whatever the glowing thing was, dirt didnt stick to it very well.

Oh, he said.

Ishta looked down at the mysterious object, then up at her brother. Do you think its magic? she asked.

Of course its magic, he said. How could it glow like that if it wasnt magic? The question is, what kind of magic? Is it dangerous?

Ishta looked down at the thing again, and asked, How could it be dangerous?

Garander snorted. Its magic, Ishta. It could do anything. Maybe it explodes when moonslight hits it, or maybe if you say the wrong word itll turn you into a toad, or maybe its poisoning you right now, just because youre holding it.

Ishta immediately dropped it, then looked closely at her hand. It looks all right, she said. I feel fine. I dont think its poison.

Probably not, Garander admitted, but we dont know.

If its poison, why would it have those shapes in there? Ishta asked, transferring her gaze from her hand to the magical object.

So youll look into it to try to figure them out, Garander suggested. Maybe it makes you go blind if you stare at it.

Ishta frowned, then stooped and picked the thing up again. I dont think thats it, she said. Why would a magician make something like that? Why not just cast a spell?

I dont know, Garander said. Im not a magician. Maybe the kind of magician who made it cant cast spells that way.

Ishta considered that for a moment, turning the glowing thing over in her hands. You think its Northern sorcery?

Well, it certainly might be, Garander said. I mean, look where you found it. No one from Ethshar ever lived in those woods!

I know I said it must have been there for ages, but its been twenty years since the war! It cant have been lying there that long.

Why not? Its magic, isnt it?

But it looks new! Ishta protested. It cant be left from the war. There must have been scouts and people like that who explored the woods after that. Maybe one of them dropped it.

Maybe, Garander admitted. I never saw any, and weve lived here for a long time, but I suppose there might have been some. Still, I think we should tell Father. We shouldnt be messing around with magic when we dont know what it is; its too dangerous.

Ishta considered this, then ventured, Maybe we could tell Mother, instead?

Garander turned up an empty hand. Why? Shell just tell Father.

Ishta could not deny this; she slumped. All right, she said. If we have to.

Come on, Garander said, beckoning to her.

Do we need to tell him I found it in the woods, though? Ishta asked, as they started toward the house. Cant we say it was, you know, just over there, somewhere?

I didnt see where you found it, Garander said. Thats what Ill tell him.

Thank you.

After a few silent steps, Garander asked, Why do you keep going into the woods, anyway? Whats out there thats worth making Father so angry?

I dont know, Ishta said. Its just nice. I like the shade, and the trees are so pretty, and there are all these places to explore. There are birds, and squirrels, and chipmunks

And there might be dragons, or bears, or mizagars, Garander replied.

I dont think bears are real, Ishta said. Ive never heard of anyone who ever saw a live one, except in nursery rhymes.

That still leaves dragons and mizagars. You arent going to claim those are imaginary, are you?

No, of course not. I know about Uncle Gror and Great-Aunt Sirina.

Those two family legends were hard to avoid. Their mothers eldest brother had served in a dragons company in the Great War, and had a scale the dragon had shed to prove it, a shiny dark green scale the size of a dinner plate; he had brought it out and shown it to them when he had visited several years ago. As for mizagars, their paternal grandfather had seen his older sister devoured by a mizagar when they were children, and the story, with all its gruesome details, had been retold many times.