Sheri S. Tepper - Shapeshifter 03 - Wizard's Eleven.pdf

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Tepper, Sheri S - Wizard's Eleven
Table of Contents
Book 3 - Wizard's Eleven
A Few Helpful Hints
Chapter 1 - Wizard's Eleven
Chapter 2 - Xammer
Chapter 3 - Dindindaroo
Chapter 4 - The Great North Road
Chapter 5 - Three Knob
Chapter 6 - The Grole Hills
Chapter 7 - Reavebridge
Chapter 8 - Hell's Maw
Chapter 9 - Nuts, Groles, and Mirrormen
Chapter 10 - Wind's Eye
Chapter 11 - The Gamesmen of Barish
Chapter 12 - The Bonedancers of Huld
Chapter 13 - Talent Thirteen
A FEW HELPFUL NOTES
The Gamesmen of Barish
1. Dorn, Necromancer Talent: Deadraising
2. Trandilar, Ruler Talent: Beguilement
3. Shattnir, Sorcerer Talent: Power Holding
4. Wafnor, Tragamor Talent: Moving
5. Didir, Demon Talent: Mind Reading
6. Dealpas, Healer Talent: Healing
7. Tamor, Armiger Talent: Flying
8. Hafnor, Elator Talent: Traveling
9. Buinel, Sentinel Talent: Firestarting
10. Sorah, Seer Talent: Seeing the Future
11. Thandbar, Shifter Talent: Shapechanging
In addition, the Immutables were reckoned to have Talent Twelve, and Peter
was
found to have Talent Thirteen. The Talent of Wizards is never specified.
"Strange are the Talents of Wizards."
Notes on the Fauna of the World of the True Game
The animals, birds, and water creatures originally native to the world of the
True Game lack a backbone and have evolved from a vaguely starfishshaped
creature. The basic skeleton is in the form of a jointed pentacle, or star,
often elongated, with the limbs and head at the points of the star. Despite
this
very different evolutionary pattern, the bioengineers among the magicians
succeeded in meshing the genetic material of the new world and that from
which
they came. Among the creatures now native to the world of the True Game are:
BUNWITS: Any of a variety of herbivorous animals with long hind legs and
 
flat,
surprised-looking faces under erect, triangular ears. Like all animals native
to
the world, bunwits are tailless. They eat young grasses and the leaves of
webwillows.
FLITCHHAWKS: Swift, high-flying birds which prey mostly upon bunwits of the
smaller varieties. Noted for their keen eyes.
FUSTIGARS: Pack-hunting predators, some varieties of which have been
extensively
inbred and domesticated.
GNARLIBARS: A huge animal which lives in the high wastes below the Dorbor
Range.
It feeds upon anything it can catch, including old or ailing krylobos. The
gnarlibar has a ground-shaking roar which has earned it the name of
"avalanche
animal." Gnarlibars always pack in fours, two females and two males; females
always bear twins, one male and one female. A set of Gnarlibars is called a
"leat" or crossroads, because of their invariable habit of attacking from
four
directions at once. It is thought that the gnarlibar is the descendant of a
prehistoric race of animals so prodigious in size as to be considered
mythical.
GROLE: A long, blind, legless animal with multiple rows of teeth which lives
by
burrowing into soil, stone, or other inorganic materials, utilizing the light
metals in its metabolism. The teeth are of adamant and can be used as
grinding
tools. The so-called "sausage groles" are not related to rockeater groles but
are smaller creatures of similar configuration which eat only organic
materials,
notably the meat of the ground nut.
KRYLOBOS: A giant, flightless bird with well-developed wing fingers, capable
of
very high running speeds. The krylobos dance contests are among the most
exciting of spectacles for adventurous zoologists, as the birds are extremely
agile and powerful.
POMBIS: Carnivores distinguished by clawed feet and the ability to climb tall
trees or nest in virtually inaccessible locations. Pombis are irritable and
have
a reputation for unprovoked belligerence.
THRISPAT: A small omnivore which bears its young alive, lives in trees or
upon
precipitous mountain slopes, and mimics the calls of other animals and the
human
voice. Small thrispats are favorite pets in the jungle cities where breeders
vie
in extending the vocabularies of their animals. A good thrispat can speak up
to
 
a hundred words and phrases with some indication of understanding their
meaning.
Thrispats are particularly fond of ripe thrilps, whence the name.
WARNETS: A stinging, flying insect of minuscule size and legendary bad
temper,
which lives in hordes. Called "saber-tail" by some. It is said that krylobos
will take warnet nests and drop them into the nests of gnarlibars during
territorial disputes.
Native Peoples
At least two peoples are known to occupy the lands around the area of the
True
Game.
SHADOWPEOPLE: Small, carnivorous (omnivorous when necessary) nocturnal people
delighting in music and song. They are extremely fond of festivals, dance
contests, song contests and the like and have been seen to assemble by
hundreds
within sound of the annual contests at the Minchery in Learner. While
Shadowpeople eat bunwits of any size, it is notable that they do not attack
krylobos and are not attacked by pombis, gnarlibars, or warnets.
EESTIES: A people said by some to be aloof and withdrawn, by others to be
friendly and helpful. Seen most often as solitary individuals. Native
language
unknown. Habits unknown. In appearance, star-shaped, moving as Armigers do or
rolling upon the extremities.
1
Wizard's Eleven
MAVIN MANYSHAPED, my mother, had told me that when a Shapeshifter is not
Shifting-that is, when he is not involved in a Game-it is considered polite
for
the Shifter to wear real clothing and act, insofar as is possible, like any
normal Demon or Necromancer or Tragamor. I like to humor Mavin when I can.
The
proper dress of a Shifter includes a beast-head helm and a fur cloak, so I
had
had a pombi-head helm made up, all lolloping red tongue and glittering eyes,
with huge jowls and ears-fake, of course. A real pombi head would have
weighed
like lead. My fur mantle was real enough, however, and welcome for warmth on
the
chill day which found me midway between the Bright Demesne and the town of
Xammer. I was mounted on a tall black horse I had picked for myself from
Himaggery's stables, and Chance sulked along behind on something less
ostentatious. We were on our way to visit Silkhands the Healer, not at her
invitation and not because of any idea of mine.
Chance was sulking because he had recently learned of a large exotic beast
said
to live in the far Northern Lands, and he wanted me to Shift into one so that
 
he
might ride me through the town of Thisp near the Bright Demesne. It seemed
there
was a widow there ...
I had said no, no, too undignified, and wasn't Chance the one who had always
urged me to be inconspicuous? To which he had made a bad-tempered reply to do
with ungrateful brats.
"If she had seen you mounted on a gnarlibar, Chance, she would never have let
you in her house again. She would have felt you too proud, too puissant for a
plumpish widow."
" 'Twould not be too warlike for that one, Peter. She's widow of an Armiger
and
daughter of another. Great high ones, too, from the telling of it."
"But she has no Talent, Chance."
"Well. That's as may be. Boys don't know everything." And he went back to his
sulks.
Whoops, Peter, I said to myself. Chance is in love and you have been
uncooperative. Thinking upon the bouncy widow, I could imagine what Talents
she
might have which Chance would value. I sighed. My own history, brief though
it
was, was mainly of love unrequited. I resolved to make it up to him. Somehow.
Later. Certainly not before I found out what a gnarlibar might look like.
This
rumination was interrupted by more muttering from Chance to the effect that
he
couldn't see why we were going to Xammer anyhow, there being nothing whatever
in
Xammer of any interest.
"Silkhands is there, Chance." I didn't mention the blues which were the
ostensible reason for my trip.
"Well, except for her there's nothing."
Right enough. Except for her there was probably little, but between the blues
and old Windlow the Seer, I had reason for going.
The Bright Demesne had been like a nest of warnets since Mavin, Himaggery, and
I
had returned from the place of the magicians in the north. Those two and
Mertyn
had great deeds aflight, and all the coming and going in pursuit of them was
dizzying. They had been horrified to learn of the bodies of great Gamesmen
stacked in their thousands in the icy caverns of the north and had resolved
to
reunite those bodies with the personalities which had once occupied them,
personalities now scattered among the lands and Demesnes in the form of
blues,
tiny Games-pieces used in the School Houses in the instruction of students.
Mavin had appointed herself in charge of locating all the blues and bringing
them to the Bright Demesne, though how she planned to reunite them with the
bodies was unknown unless she was depending upon the last of the magicians,
Quench, to make it possible. In any case, uncertainty was not standing in the
way of action. Pursuivants were dashing about, Elators were flicking in and
out
like whipcracks; the place was fairly screaming with arrivals and departures.
Coincident with all this was a quiet search for my enemy, Huld. We were all
eager to find him, accounting him a great danger loose in the world and
ourselves unable to rest in safety until he was in some deep dungeon or
safely
dead.
And, of course, there was still much conjecture and looking into the matter
of
 
that mysterious Council which was rumored to be managing or mismanaging our
affairs from some far, hidden place of power. Anyone not otherwise occupied
was
trying to solve that enigma. Meantime, I traveled about, collected blues,
spent
little time at the Bright Demesne. Standing about under the eyes of an
eccentric
mother, a father who kept looking at me like a gander who has hatched a
flitchhawk chick, and of my thalan, Mertyn, who persisted in treating me like
a
schoolboy, made me short-tempered and openly rebellious in a few short days.
I
said as much to the three of them, but I don't think they heard me. They
considered me a treasure beyond price until it came time to listen to me, and
then I might as well have been a froglet going oh-ab, oh-ab, oh-ab in the
ditches. I would like to have been involved at the center of things,
but-well.
It would have done no good to talk to Mavin about it. She was a tricksy one,
my
mother, and though I would have trusted her implicitly with my life, I could
not
trust her at all with my sanity. Matchless in times of trouble, as a
day-to-day
companion she had remarkable quirks. Himaggery and Mertyn were preoccupied.
Chance was courting the widow in Thisp. There were no other young people at
the
Bright Demesne-all locked up in School Houses. What was there to do?
Given the state of my pockets, I had decided to go swimming. During my
travels
in Schlaizy Noithn, I had learned to do without clothing most of the time,
growing pockets in my hide for the things I really wanted to carry about.
When
one can grow fangs and claws at will, it is remarkable how few things one
really
needs. Well, pockets in one's skin sound all very well, but they accumulate
flurb just as ordinary pockets do, and accumulated flurb itches. A good cure
for
this is to empty the pockets, turn them inside out and go swimming in one of
the
hot pools with the mists winding back and forth overhead and the wind
breathing
fragrance from the orchards. All very calm and pastoral and sweetly
melancholy.
Well, enough of that was enough of that in short order. I sat on the grassy
bank
with the contents of my pockets spread out, sorting through them as one does,
deciding what to do with a strange coin or an odd-shaped stone. While I was
at
it, I dumped out the little leather pouch which held the Gamesmen of Barish.
There had been thirty-two of the little figures when I had found them. Only
eleven had been "real." The others were merely copies and carvings made by
some
excellent craftsman in a long ago time in order to fill out a set of
Gamespieces. The ones which were only carvings were in my room. The eleven
real
ones were becoming as familiar to me as the lines in my own hand.
There was Dorn, the Necromancer, death's-head mask in one hand, dark visaged
and
lean. I could almost hear his voice, insinuating, dry, full of cold humor, an
actorish voice. There was voluptuous Trandilar, Great Ruler, silver-blonde
 

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