The Song of Andiene by Elisa Blaisdell

would find a home and a wife and some work within his skill. But that is not for you yet.”
    As they followed the winding paths to the north, Ilbran’s mind was filled with those words. What does he want with me? I am but a useless weight to stumble behind him . They walked slowly. He had time to think of his future. He could tell what direction they traveled by the sun’s warmth on his face, as though his skin had eyes. When the air grew cool, he knew that sunset was near. If he listened intently, he could hear the padding footfalls of the grizane in front of him.
    Little accomplishments. Worthless ones. The grizane brought him food, sweet thornfruit from the ungleaned bushes, mealy blaggorn, easy to chew raw and unground, not like the flinty grain that grew near to the sea. Ilbran ate it gladly, but his thoughts were grim. Had I been alone, I would have starved while this food surrounded me.

    But the grizane found food enough for them both. He walked slowly and rested often, keeping to a pace that Ilbran could follow without stumbling. In three days they came out on the wide north road.
    “Wait here,” the grizane said. “I must set wards on this road, so that my fellows will not enter and be caught in the same trap that seized me.”
    Ilbran had learned to obey without questioning. He stood at the side of the road and listened to the tuneless chanting, the footsteps padding up and down the dusty roadway. That one sees with my eyes. Dark magic, but I made the bargain, and made it willingly. I would have died by sword or fire . He walked back and forth restlessly. Grown accustomed to his night, he could step boldly, and did not often fall.
    Then the air was silent. The grizane came to him, his voice slow and weary. “It is done, the first of three. Now, time for another part of the bargain. Do you remember what you swore to me? ‘Anything and everything?’”
    His thin fingers gripped Ilbran’s wrist before he could answer. Though the touch filled Ilbran with terror, he did not try to escape. “‘Anything and everything,’ I swore, and I will pay my debts,” he said.
    Once again, he felt the pain of torn flesh, the weariness of great age, and then the otherness faded away, and he could see again. Blinding gold and blue and green! Thickets of green, jeweled with red fruit and silver thorns. Why even the dust on the wayside leaves seemed to sparkle with light. He babbled incoherent words of wonderment.
    “Calm your ecstasies,” the grizane said. “Do you remember our bargain? I could have left you here sightless and alone, and not have been forsworn. Now I ask you that you will guide me, and help me in what I must do, until I can call one of my own kind to me.”
    Ilbran’s new-found sight blurred with tears. “Lord, I could follow you to the ends of the earth and it would not repay you.”
    “Do not thank you for your sight,” the grizane said. “I gave it back to save myself, a selfish act. I have seen ones who began with a simple act of legality and ended running on all four feet through the wide forest.” He said nothing to explain what he meant, but the bright day seemed a little colder as he spoke. Ilbran did not question him.
    They turned to the east, following the thornfruit paths, Ilbran leading the grizane now. The gray one had put off the black servant’s robe and wore the garments that had given his kind their name. “They are my own,” he said. “They give me strength. I need no disguise now.”
    At last, they came to the wide eastern road that went up into the mountains. “If you would aid me,” the grizane said, “you must give me the gift of sight again. This road must be warded like the others.”
    Ilbran hesitated, warring within himself, fear against trust. At last, he held out his hands to the other one. “I will give you what I can.”
    The chanting seemed briefer this time. The pain was less and lasted for only a moment. Then the darkness overwhelmed him. He listened to the