The wizard turned quickly to the captain of the guard. “Set sail,” he said. “Due west. Home. Free the ship’s wheel, and be quick about it. We have no desire to travel any farther into the Sea of Whispers than we already are.”
Visibly shaken, Wigg walked once again to his favorite spot at the stern of the ship and leaned against the rail. He looked up at the stern torch. Narrowing his eyes, he caused it to extinguish. The rain was abating, and with the torch out he could see that the clouds were gradually parting and the usual three red moons were rising into view, bathing the calming sea in their customary, rose-colored translucence. Looking at the familiar moons, he took comfort in the fact that despite what he and his countrymen had endured, some things never changed.
He could now easily make out the dark shape of the receding skiff. As he continued to look, a yellow light suddenly winked on from the craft. One corner of the wizard’s mouth turned upward in recognition, his suspicions confirmed. He had purposefully given them no physical means to bring flame to the lanterns. He also knew that light would be their most immediate need in order to prepare their small craft to make way against the storm. Therefore, they must have summoned the remainder of their collective power to conjure forth flame to light the lanterns. That would leave them completely weakened; also, the light would give him a way to identify their position for the last task he was to fulfill. He remained silent and motionless as the captain of the guard came to lean against the rail beside him.
“So you were right,” the soldier said slowly to the old one. “They did have a small reserve of power.” He paused. “But my conscience forces me, Lead Wizard, to tell you that this is a mistake.” The captain’s eyes were neither angry nor resentful, but sadly skeptical. “We had all assumed that they were due for execution. The only thing we couldn’t fathom was why we were risking our own lives to take them out to sea in this barely adequate craft.” He again paused, watching the small yellow light as it slowly grew smaller still. “Now we know.”
He turned his face to the wizard. Young eyes that had already seen too many of the horrors of life hungrily searched the wizards profile for answers. None came. He decided to express his opinion anyway.
“Many of my officers who have lost loved ones in the hostilities feel they have been cheated by not letting their swords take their vengeance. I must admit that I also do not understand. Those women were the last of their kind. Each of those bitches should have been killed, and the pieces thrown to the sharks.”
The old one in the soaked gray robe didn’t answer, but continued to watch the receding light, as if he were temporarily lost in the past. He had no need to verbalize to the captain the unspoken sentiments that each knew he shared with the other, and the wizard’s legendary silence could be deafening. After what seemed an eternity to the young soldier, the wizard named Wigg finally took a deep breath and broke out of his reverie as if he were speaking only to himself.
“We gave them a chance once, long ago,” he mused. He smiled at the look of surprise on the young captain’s face. Sometimes the wizard forgot that he was so old, and the war had lasted so long. The death and the dying had seemed such an interminable part of his life that it was easy to forget he had ever enjoyed a peaceful existence before the outbreak of war. The offer he spoke of had been made before this man was even born. He sighed. “But you wouldn’t know about that. As their numbers and power grew, we offered to share power equally, and in peace. But they refused and chose war. With them it was all or nothing. Wizard against sorceress. Male against female. Light against dark.” He slowly shook his head. “We are very fortunate to have prevailed.” He paused, his index finger rubbing back and forth across his lip as if making a decision.
“With the sorceresses gone I am now at liberty to tell you certain things,” Wigg began. “Once the final four had been captured, we were forced to restrict their sustenance so as to be able to control their joined power and make them stand trial,” he said slowly, the truth of it obviously causing him both pain and frustration. “However, after the trial and the women being so weakened, the Directorate collectively ruled that execution would be tantamount to murder.” He turned his aquamarine eyes once again toward the captain. “And our vows forbid murder. Because of his power, it is forbidden for a wizard to take a life other than in urgent self-defense or without prior warning. Life imprisonment was considered, but posed too many ethical problems. The indefinite imprisonment of the sorceresses would have dictated continuance of their weakened state, resulting in certain death from disease, and therefore would also have constituted murder. A true wizard’s conundrum. Exile was the only choice. And the Sea of Whispers was the only answer. Here there was an outside chance, as far as we knew, for their survival.” He shook his head sadly. “She was right about one thing, you know. It was a clever choice. Hypocritical, but clever.”
“But what stops them from doing as their leader said?” the captain pressed. “You have given them virtual freedom with their own craft, oars and sail, and food and drink. Their power will return, and they’ll set sail for home.” He shook his head in his disbelief of the Directorate’s foolishness, while at the same time trying to control his anger. He couldn’t believe so many had died only to see these women set free upon the ocean. “Fifteen days is not a long time.”
“To them, it will be an eternity,” the old one said. He smiled. In his frequent conversations with the young captain, he was reminded of one of his father’s favorite sayings, which had often been repeated to him in the early days of his training in the craft. If youth only knew how, and if old age only could. And even though it seemed so long ago now, the phrase always proved just as trustworthy as ever.
“The provisions are not as they seem,” Wigg said simply. “I altered them. The number of casks that were lowered into the skiff appeared to be enough food and drink for weeks. But if you were to ask any of your men who did the work, you would be told that each of the containers was suspiciously light. Indeed, even if rationed there is only enough for five days at best. The false appearance of that much sustenance was designed to make them climb into the skiff willingly, and anxious to be off.” He returned his gaze to the yellow light as the Resolve began to gain way slowly, the tattered and scorched rigging now raising her best sails up the lone remaining mast. He again remembered that many of the sails themselves were also badly damaged. It would be a slow trip home. He looked carefully into the face of the captain. “Do you now understand?”
The captain smiled, nodding slowly. “Of course. The first thing they will try to do will be to eat and drink their fill. They will want their power back. But when they discover the shortages, they will have to ration themselves.” He smiled broadly at the image. “Their power will not increase.” Proud of himself, the captain laughed aloud to the ocean, thinking the riddle solved.
His smile faded again as he saw the wizard silently staring at him with those infernally blue eyes of his. There must be more to it. He had often been told that the mental processes and physical actions of wizards were piled upon each other in seamless intricacy, carefully constructed layers of thought and deed. Trying to understand the ones in the gray robes was like trying to peel an onion: A layer was removed, only to reveal another beneath it. It was never easy to fully understand them. Few outside of the craft ever tried.