Synry
Episode Four
Gwydus glared with real frustration at his newest pupil. The boy just stood there, slack-jawed, staring off into the space above Gwydus' left shoulder. If he didn't know better, he would say that the boy was simple, but the light of the Talent shone brightly in him. Gwydus just needed a way to break through that thick skull.
"Alright boy. What does this say?"
"Says Hob, m'lord."
"You didn't even look at it!" Gwydus threw the slate at Hob, who let it hit him, hard, in the forehead. The boy didn't even flinch as blood trickled down from the small cut it made above his eye. Instantly, Gwydus was overcome with guilt, but the frustration wouldn't let him apologize. He could feel his familiar, Cumas, giggling inside his wide sleeve.
All the fight went out of Gwydus, and he flopped into the overstuffed chair in the corner of the office. Hob stood rigidly at attention in front of the desk, back to the wizard, still not moving.
"Hob. Come sit with me."
"Aye, m'ord."
Even the act of taking a seat was an exercise in military precision when Hob did it. The chair was not so much taken as invaded, and occupied, with the boy never losing a touch of his perfect posture and presentation. The only thing that marred the perfection of the spectacle was the trickle of blood that threatened to drop onto the uniform tunic. Gwydus sighed, pulled a handkerchief from one of his huge pockets, and handed it to Hob, who carefully dabbed up the blood, and held the soiled cloth out to the wizard.
"Keep it, boy. You don't want to go giving away your blood to a wizard. Remember the story of Cardog the Self-Slayer."
"M'lord?"
"You don't know the tale? Well, Cardog was a great warrior, blessed by the Gods, who angered a mighty wizard who was serving the Titans. The wizard managed to get a little of Cardog's blood, and used his arts to grow another Cardog, one that would serve the wizard. The two Cardogs met on the field of battle in the midst of a huge army, and they killed each other. I would have thought you would have heard that story. It's very common."
"Is it true, m'lord?"
"True? Well... Yes and no. I mean, the ritual for such duplication exists, and so it is possible, but the historical accounts are hazy. For example, there are records of a Ceirdal falling in battle against a magical construct, but the nature of the construct isn't discussed in any detail. Aseanydd mentions a Cardog in his account of the Four-Sun Ambush, but that was after the Ceirdal incident, and the Cardog that Aseanydd mentions was leading a troop of manticora, so it is unlikely to be the Cardog mentioned in the story. Gaytha of Tall Trees has actually produced an historical study of the story for her bardic journeypiece, and I have it here somewhere..."
Gwydus heaved himself out of the chair, and waddled over to the bookshelf, happily entranced by his subject. Hob sat carefully, gazing in amazement. Never before had he heard such things! The tales told in the barracks tended to be simple brags of conquests or feats, never this wondrous tapestry of things past. The fact that someone had told such a story, and others thought about it enough to tell other stories about it, was something completely alien to his experience.
When Gwydus dug out a slim folio from the shelf, he came back to his chair and handed it to Hob. Hob held it uselessly in his hand, turning it back and forth, unsure what to do next. The gleam in Gwydus' eyes was triumphant.
"Each of these books, Hob, is full of stories. Stories of heroes and Gods, the Titanswar, folktales of the Elves and Men, legends of Dragons, accounts of famous battles and great kings. This is what we do so that these things won't be forgotten: we write them down. Then, if you know the key, you can remember them again and again, remember things that you never experienced yourself, remember it because someone else wrote it down for you. The key, though, is that you have to read it. And I can teach you that, if you will let me. I can teach you to read these stories, and many others, and I can teach you to write your own, and I can teach you the magic that the great wizards use in these tales. But only if you want to learn it.”
Hob looked at him, open-mouthed and vacant-eyed. Then, he rose, went over to where the slate lay on the floor and picked it up. He gazed at it for a long moment.
"M'lord?"
"Yes, Hob?"
"Why does this say Hob?"
