The Naming of Kinzel Read online

  Kinzel nodded, tightening fingers on the old wood of his staff. The green vines twined around wood swelled in response.

  The goatherd leaned against the duck-cart muttering to the driver. "It's justice they'll have from one who carries the Branch, I warrant."

  Stirt professed himself willing to allow an outside arbiter to settle the affair while pointing out that they would, of course, require proof of Kinzel's wizardhood. Something more substantial, perhaps, than a tree limb and a voice-trick.

  Kinzel offered the lens as proof. Neither judge found this particularly compelling, Falter pointing out that any competent glassworker could manufacture something similar.

  Hand tight about his staff, Kinzel thought of Madog the Magnificent, mumbled the recently learned spell, visualized himself in the very tower room; asked the boon....

  There was a moment of sharp dislocation, when only the weight of the staff in his hand was real: the bridge and all upon it were things of mist and dreamings.

  Within a heartbeat he was back and all was solid, with the exception of Madog's sending. Towering eight feet high, it bowed to Kinzel, features unformed; and then, settling into an exact replication of Madog (except for the height) bowed as well to the judges.

  "Yes, my good Kinzel. Luck finds me between tasks. Judge Falter. Judge Stirt. I trust you gentlemen are well?"

  The men stared at Madog's sending, neither mustering a response.

  "Ah," continued Madog, red eye falling upon the crow strutting along the roof-edge. Laboriously, the sending croaked a string of strange syllables. Braddak froze and closed both eyes; and the wizard sighed.

  "I expect my Crow isn't quite up to date. By your kindness, Kinzel, convey to Braddak my greeting."

  Kinzel nodded and quickly explained the situation, whereupon Madog chuckled.

  "None better than Kinzel to settle such a dispute! Why, I'd insist he settle any similar argument for me except that damned staff of his - ahem. Professional differences, you understand, gentlemen; nothing to bear upon Kinzel's excellence as judge or as mage."

  Recommendations delivered, Madog murmured an aside to the younger wizard. "My boy, this is hardly becoming. No one need question your wizardliness. Settle down, raise yourself a small keep somewhere and ... eh?"

  "There's so much to see," Kinzel explained diffidently, and Madog shook his head, baffled.

  "Be well," he said after a moment. "And keep in touch." He was gone then, flourishing his departure with a thunderclap and a flash of light, which seemed exactly the sort of proof Stirt had been interested in obtaining, no matter that he made the crow jump and flap his wings several times.

  "If you'll be judge, you'll be needing a proper seat and a place for it," suggested the goatherd.

  "Just a place to sit," said Kinzel. "Just a seat."

  ***

  Kinzel sat on a high chair beneath the bridge roof, at the center of an army of disorganization. At his side, on a much lower chair, sat a minstrel known in the region for his reporting - and his ability to write a clear hand. He was to take down all that transpired, for the archives of both towns.

  To Kinzel's right and left stood the mayors of Hartwell and Carr. These gentlemen had agreed that their judges deserved to be judged according to their stations.

  Thus between them they had duly appointed Kinzel as the Judge of Crowsbridge.

  In keeping with his new position and title, Kinzel's gray cloak was set aside for this occasion and replaced by a blue woolen robe donated by a Hartwell merchant, while a shoemaker from Carr gave new boots. From both towns had come well-wishers and time-wasters; the bridge had fully one hundred persons on it by the time Kinzel was permitted to begin his own part in the drama.

  A thin way was kept through the crowd for travelers, but Kinzel doubted that any would pass such a singular event.

  With a crow's curiosity, Braddak watched the crowd build, with special interest in the food vendors. Several of these offered the bird of contention bits of bread or cheese, but the bird kept to his roof-edge.

  The opening statement went, by the drawing of lots, to Judge Falter, who represented himself. "Your Honor, my good friends, colleague," (this last directed frostily at Judge Stirt). "The matter at hand is a simple one: We discuss the ownership of a gray crow named Landlin, whom I befriended some months ago and who since that time has given me company and brought assorted oddments. I have spent much time in the training of Landlin - who, by the way, may be seen on the roof of this building, where he has largely kept since answering my call early this morning. I ask simply that Landlin be recognized as my own pet and property." He bowed and stepped back.

  A buzz went through the watchers. Kinzel waved for quiet.

  Judge Stirt smiled pleasantly at Kinzel, turned to the crowd and, finally, to Judge Falter. "Your Honor, friends, esteemed jurist. It is easy to see how my friend has come by his misconception, but I am here to bring the matter to a quick close. The bird in question - Coronella - is my bird. She has accepted both food and housing from me and I have trained her to come to my whistle."

  He demonstrated the whistle and there was an answering cry from the bird on the roof, who fluttered around the hasty dais on which Kinzel sat before returning to the roof. The bird stared down at Falter, who smiled at the world.

  "The bird has also, I confess, brought me an amazing number of gifts since I first discovered her, and I feel Coronella's devotion is more than proven by the presents brought me over the past seven months." He paused.

  The crowd's murmur nearly grew to a roar; Kinzel shushed them lightly but it took the minstrel's "Quiet!" to bring order.

  "I see," said Kinzel in his blunt way. "So I am to decide who owns and is responsible for the bird before me?"

  "I so stipulate, Your Honor," said both.

  "Do either of you have witnesses to call?"

  Both, of course, did.

  Kinzel sighed. The ways of Balance were many. He wondered why he always drew the more difficult.

  ***

  Judge Stirt introduced a witness thus: "Here is someone who can confirm that on the day of the first frost I'd already been speaking of my bird."

  The witness, sworn in, did say, "Aye, and by the day of the first frost I'd been told what I already guessed - that the good judge was blessed with the friendship of the gray crow."

  Kinzel, untutored in law but observant of people, quickly saw that the witnesses, believing themselves accurate, were led and biased by familiarity with the litigants. He sighed with each new witness. How could he decide?

  It was during one of these examinations that the Judge of Crowsbridge introduced an inquiry of his own.

  "It would please me," Kinzel said to the miller of one or the other town (it hardly seemed to matter now), "if you would explain why you did not find it odd when Judge Stirt paid you with a ring of gold and stone instead of a coin."

  "Well, Your Honor, he told me it was given by the gray crow!"

  "Tell me," said Kinzel, "is the gray crow so well-known here that only outsiders are unaware of it?"

  "Oh ... ummmm ... well..." sputtered the miller. "I know not the full story..."

  The goatherd, it happened, knew the full story.

  "Your Honor, it is told that once every generation a gray crow will come. The person who befriends this crow and who receives all the treasure it brings will be successful; his name will be known far and wide; and he will die content. My great-great-grandfather was such a man.... The herds I drive are the last of my inheritance. My father felt himself too far above birds to seek one out; and until this day I doubted that ever was such a creature!"

  "There must be a wizard in it!" cried a voice from the crowd.

  Several laughed; others quickly shushed them.

  "'Twas told as a thing the unicorn did in the old, old days, in exchange for keeping a grove free of men and goats and cows," the goatherd answered. "I disbelieve that, I think. But there is now this crow bringing gifts..."

  "Ah,"
said Kinzel, "Unicorns are fond of conditions. Why, once I was told by one that I could take a stream back to a village in dire need, and welcome - but I must carry it myself."

  More laughter from the crowd as the minstrel turned to stare at the mage. "Then you are Kinzel the Foo - the Innocent?"

  Kinzel nodded. "That point is aside, however. There is magic in this, for crows are not gray generation after generation: they are black ... yet the magic is faded to near nothing, for the bird himself is not magical."

  "Did you carry the stream, Judge?" demanded a voice from the gallery.

  "Of course I did! Now hush, we've other things doing."

  The crowd muttered at that reply; and quieted rapidly.

  The miller finished his tale, dating Stirt's acquaintance with the bird at "about the time the bakery chimney caught fire."

  ***

  Kinzel leaned back in his chair. It was clear to him that the men had come upon the gray crow within days of each other. Stirt's horse had stopped prancing at the sight of the bird - he'd considered that an omen - while the crow had offered a red rock to Falter, who'd fallen asleep at his fishing.

  "Gentlemen, it seems to me that there is something missing from this discussion," the mage said finally. "I am not certain what it is, but feel that it will come to me. I am somewhat behind in my meals and I suggest recess. We will continue at..." he consulted neighboring shadows, "at about three of the afternoon."

  ***

  Kinzel ate alone, accepting a garlic sausage to complement his bread and cheese, as well as a tankard of the local brew. The purveyor of this last waxed eloquent, naming it "the most treasured ale in the West."

  Kinzel's mind snagged on the phrase. "Treasure," he murmured as he drank. "Treasure, indeed!"

  In the meanwhile the minstrel took advantage of his position to spin a tale or two, and tell some recent news from the kingdoms and towns he'd passed through.

  It seemed to Kinzel that the most recent tales - those taking place closest to the bridge - were the ones sounding most plausible. He was perplexed to hear the minstrel go on at length about an army planning a griffin hunt; led by a fanatic officer called the Rove Captain. These mortals - not a magician among them - seemed bent on hunting down, nay, in "cleansing the world" of griffins.

  Kinzel shook his head sadly. Some men respected neither magic nor their own lives-

  When Court reconvened, it was to a larger audience. News of the inquest had traveled, tempting even the well-to-do townspeople.

  Stirt's side of the bridge had grown by numerous well-dressed persons, including three elegant ladies, one of whom was obviously the good man's wife.

  Falter's side was less numerous, though Kinzel saw signs of affection between the judge and his wife. His town was judged the slightly smaller, slightly poorer one in any case.

  Both men were clearly nervous beneath matching airs of judicial unconcern.

  "I believe," Kinzel began, "that I have heard enough witnesses. After all, the matter is between the two of you. Step forward, please."

  The crestfallen judges blinked, having employed recess in scrounging more verifications.

  "The time has come," said the little wizard mildly, "to speak of treasure. Each of you seeks not only ownership of the bird, but ownership of what the bird brings."

  The crowd was abruptly very quiet; Falter and Stirt exchanged glances.

  "Please tell me, gentlemen: What kinds of 'treasure' are brought by the gray crow?"

  Neither spoke.

  Kinzel felt the staff grow warm, was not surprised to find the leaves suddenly full and swaying. The staff rarely stirred itself without cause.

  "Judge Falter. Tell of the treasure you've received."

  "I hardly think this is the place..." began the man.

  "Surely you see that there must be a way to judge who between you is the owner of the gray crow?" murmured Kinzel. "I suspect that the true owner receives better treasure."

  Falter hesitated; cleared his throat. The crowd buzzed for several moments over the idea of treasure. Finally Falter looked Kinzel in the face fretfully and began.

  "Well... Many rocks and pieces of colored glass and bits of metal. I have a catalog at home of everything.... Also, fourteen gold rings; an assortment of cloak pins of silver, gold and bronze, some with stones; a ring set with a single large diamond; a ruby pendant..."

  The list was overwhelmed momentarily by the babble of the crowd. Judge Falter spoke of treasure indeed! Why, a single gold ring might amount to a man's earnings for a season!

  Kinzel raised the staff for quiet; it came respectfully. "And you, Judge Stirt? What has your friend brought you?"

  He hesitated, glancing back at his elegant wife.

  The crowd took voice again. Kinzel waved to no avail; brought the tip of the greenstaff sharply against the bridge-boards, waking an infant rumble of thunder in the cloudless sky.

  The Court was bathed in awed silence.

  "There have been," Judge Stirt began slowly, "something over thirty rings and bracelets of silver; items set with garnet; and..."

  Kinzel heard a minor commotion to his left and looked over to see Judge Falter's wife speaking earnestly into her husband's ear.

  "...two emerald brooches, as well as glass, shell, bits of colored pottery, and a number of ... aah ... toy soldiers and such."

  "I see," said the thoughtful mage, rubbing his chin idly. "It seems quite a bit, doesn't it?"

  Judge Stirt nodded.

  "Did either of you publish a list of these items, so that their owners might reclaim them?"

  No reply.

  Kinzel shook his head.

  "Is it true that you did not advertise for the owners, Judge Falter?"

  "It is true," said the judge heavily.

  "Did you seek the proper owners of your treasure, Judge Stirt?"

  "No, sir, I did not," responded that gentleman with energy. "I felt I was rightly receiving property - that is, treasure - from the gray crow, exactly as per the legend!"

  "I see," said Kinzel carefully. "Then you believe the crow was also the rightful custodian of the treasure?"

  "Of course!"

  "If that is the case," Kinzel continued, "then we should expect no one here to recognize the treasure and claim it. Correct?"

  The judge agreed.

  "Good." The little wizard sat straighter in the tall chair. "I feel we can bring this to a rapid close if the treasure both have mentioned is brought here for display."

  "Ridiculous," sputtered Judge Stirt.

  "Unheard of," muttered Judge Falter.

  "Excellent," murmured the minstrel, plying his pen.

  "If you insist upon this course of action, we will dismiss you from the case!" Stirt announced. "For you are certainly not solving the problem you were engaged to solve!"

  Kinzel felt the blood come to his face as Falter added something about "Justice being improperly served by some supposed mage..."

  "Quiet!" Kinzel cried.

  The judges paid him no heed; Stirt announcing loudly that surely he and his honored colleague might come to some arrangement...

  "Silence!" Kinzel was on his feet, staff in hand, voice nearly soft, though strong enough to carry a note of true Command.

  They were, perforce, silent.

  "I am not a judge by trade," Kinzel snapped, his voice carrying to the far edge of the crowd, "but I find that I am a wizard. I deal with Balance daily.

  "When Braddak - who sits on the roof above us - took my lens I wished it back. That was Balance. He might have offered trade - also Balance. If he continued to bring me lenses - or continued to take my items - that would not be Balance. There is the question each of you raises: the question of ownership. I agreed to aid you two gentlemen because you asked, and because Balance was at stake.

  "I will see Balance done. Justice as well, though that's man's law, as I took the commission. The true owner of the gray crow will be found only after the items you received are brought here. Let it
be done! All of them!"

  Shivering with his own audacity, Kinzel sat down. The judges rushed to their wives and gave orders.

  "In the meantime," Kinzel murmured to the minstrel, "I will have another taste of ale."

  ***

  "You, Judge Stirt, will place your treasure on the right. Judge Falter, you will place your treasure on the left."

  The crowd pressed close; everyone straining to see as silver, gold and stone struck and tinkled.

  There was a moment of awed silence as the judges stepped back - then a loud shriek from Judge Stirt's wife!

  "That's mine!" she cried, pointing at Falter's booty. "And that ... and that..."

  "That ring, there," called the other judge's wife, her eyes on Stirt's pile, while her daughter cried out, "My bracelet ... my neck chain!"

  The crowd's murmur grew to a roar; swelled into laughter.

  Kinzel let the laughter run its course: it helped cover the tears of Judge Falter's wife and daughter, as well as the potent words Judge Stirt's wife had for him for "letting that dirty bird wander around our home!"

  Kinzel stood, motioned for quiet.

  "I believe," he said softly, "that we have a bit of the Balance already. You have been trading dreams and jewels." Kinzel paused. Balance - most of the Balance was done. Justice was harder. He spoke, surprised to find a note of Command had crept into his words.

  "Anything on these cloths not originally property of one of these judges or his family shall be exhibited on the bridge for one week, with our minstrel here as steward. After that the items will be displayed at alternating court sessions in the courts of Carr and Hartwell until the owner is found, or until seven years have passed. An item unclaimed after that time is the property of whoever now holds it."

  The crowd applauded this order so roundly that both judges swallowed their protests. Kinzel barely heard the noise: he was full of wonder that the power of Balance had flowed so quickly into him, was so just and decisive. The leaves of the staff wreathed his hands reassuringly - he had made the right choices so far....

  "Now, gentlemen, are you ready to finish the task?"