“Oh,” she waved a hand and shifted herself so that she was sitting up against the flank of the big grey and black dapple horse. “Useful? Being nameless. Or, more to the point, if you don’t know your own true name… if you’ve never known a name of your own… well, it makes you like air, or rain. Hard to get hold of.” She was clearly enjoying the explanation. There was a sense of someone having come into knowledge and wanting to share it. “You see, a big part of magic is names. A name lets you understand a thing. A name lets you grow familiar with it.”
“Really?” said the boy, unsure.
“Yes. Think about the first time you ever went into the woods. Was it scary?”
“Yes.”
“What sorts of questions did you ask?”
The boy thought. “Well, I asked what things were. If they were dangerous.”
“You learned their names. The name of this toadstool, or that flower, or that tree, or this waterfall, or that trackway. Once you know the names of things, they fall into your power a little.” She gave him a knowing sort of smile. “And was the wood less scary once you knew the names of everything?”
He thought about it. “Yes. It was more friendly seeming after that.”
“What you experienced is what everyone feels. Names tame things. Names make things familiar. That much is true for everyone. Not just magicians. But, magicians and witches use names in a deeper way.” She looked at him with a more appraising eye. “And any of them would have a hard time putting a gimmick on you, little nameless one. A spell would just, sort of, slip off. Like someone trying to put a rope on you, but you were made of oil and grease and smoke.”
“Oh,” he said. “I see.” Though he really didn’t. He didn’t want to sound stupid, but he also desperately wanted to understand. So he bit his lip and ventured to say, “But why would that be useful? Being too, um, greasy for a magic spell?”
“Because where we are going there are likely to be magicians and witches. Bad ones. A person who is slippery might be useful.”
He considered this. Bad witches and magicians sounded dangerous, but he already knew from experience that freezing alone in the woods was dangerous too. And these two weird travellers seemed a whole lot nicer than most of the people he’d met in his life. Even if one of them was a talking horse with sharp teeth and glowing eyes. Even if the other seemed to be some sort of wandering sword-lady looking for trouble.
When he thought about it, he didn’t feel the worried, suspicious nagging that he picked up from most liars. Over the years he had gotten to be quite good at knowing when someone had motives that were murky. He’d made mistakes trusting people in the past, and been sorry for it. That sort of experience hones the perceptions. “Um, maybe, yes. I just need to go wet a tree.” He stood up. “I’ll just be a bit.”
“Alright,” said the woman, Caewen. She was clearly a bit puzzled by his sudden turn of the bladder.
Both the horse and woman watched him as he moved off into the woods, out of the fire’s light. As soon as he was away from the fire, he started to feel the cold again. The air seemed to suck at his skin, drawing heat away at once. He went only far enough among the trees that he wouldn’t be easily heard. Then he stood behind a big beech, dug out the piece of rock crystal from a pocket, and cupped it in his hands. He had to think for a moment before the words came back to him. He spoke carefully, moving his tongue over the syllables as if they might sting. “Meesie stone, meesie stone, I’ve a dubeity for you,” he then asked, “Meesie-stone, should we trust each other, these two and me?” The stone warmed in his palm and gave off a ruddy glow. That meant yes. But it only shimmered for a moment before a big split went through it, and the whole stone cracked in two. A puff of something glittery drifted out of the crack and the rock-crystal turned cold, like ice about to melt. He pocketed the pieces anyway, and picked a path over logs and around trees back to the fire.
When he sat down both the woman and horse were looking at him oddly.
“Interesting way to phrase the question,” she said.
“What?”
Dapplegrim pulled a face that looked something like a toothy grin. “I’ve good hearing. Very excellent hearing. Hur.”
“Oh. Right. So you heard me?”
“May I see the charm? I won’t keep it,” she held out a hand.
“It’s dead now. The man who gave it to me, he said it didn’t have many questions left. That was it, I suppose. Or maybe my being bad for magic killed it?” He pulled out the two pieces of rock and handed them to her.
“Could be.” She examined the pieces closely. “You’re right. There’s no magic left in this now, though it was a clever little bit of spellweaving. This could never foretell anything momentous, but it would answer immediate questions cleverly enough. Very fine work.” She hefted the crystal pieces, as if weighing them in her hand. “I have to say, though, I like the way you phrased the question. Makes me think we can trust you also.”
“Why?” he said.
It was Dapplegrim who answered. “You didn’t ask only if you can trust us. Or if we were dangerous. You asked if we can trust each other. That’s an interesting way to phrase a question like that.”
She handed the broken charm back. “And that suggests you’re thinking about others even when you don’t know it. That’s not a common thing.”
“I guess,” he said. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“What did the charm say? Did it give you an answer?”
He nodded. “Aye. It said yes.”
“Well, you can come with us, if you want to. We will ride a little after dawn. You’re still just a child, and Dapplegrim is big enough for the both of us.”
“Hur,” said the horse-thing. “Don’t mind me. Just add more weight. Maybe we could fill a bag with rocks too?” But he sounded more joking than seriously affronted.
“Alright,” said the boy, not really knowing what else to say. “I will come with you. If you don’t mind me. But where are you going?”
She smiled. “Where we are needed.”
“Oh, that again?” said Dapplegrim. “You mean where you think we are needed.” He scuffed a hoof. “Don’t listen to her. Where are we going? Wherever it is that Caewen thinks she can get herself into the most danger possible. We’ll know when we’ve found the place, because there’ll be a hundred people trying to kill her.” He rolled his eyes. “And I’ll have to save her skin. Again. There’s likely to be a lot of sorcerous fire, and maybe swords and probably a horrid monster as well. I mean, a horrid monster that isn’t me. Two horrid monsters if you count me.”
She laughed softly. “No,” she said. “And yes. I suppose Dapplegrim’s right enough. We’re going where it will be dangerous to go. But that’s always where the need is greatest.”