Off to Be the Wizard by Scott Meyer Page A

They don’t know what it means. I should be careful what I say. He tried to remember how people greeted each other in ye olde times.
    “Hey! Hail! Greetings!” he yelled, waving energetically.
    The two men seemed unnerved. They glanced at each other, then spurred their horses to an instant gallop. They passed Martin, giving him as much room as they could without riding into the woods.
    “Salutations! Um, well met! What-ho!”
    The man who passed closest to Martin (one eye, two eyebrows) gritted his also non-traditional number of teeth and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks again. Once they were past him, the men fled at top speed. Martin turned to watch them go, and saw that a horse-drawn wagon was approaching him from behind. It must have been in a part of the road I bypassed, he thought.
    The two men passed the wagon without giving it any apparent thought. Martin watched the wagon’s approach, wondering if the driver would be afraid of him too. The wagon was drawn by a single horse, and there appeared to be a single driver with no passengers. The driver seemed small and was wearing a hood. He couldn’t see if anything was in the back of the wagon, which stopped ten feet short of Martin.
    At least this guy doesn’t seem scared of me, Martin thought. I wonder what his eye to eyebrow ratio will be.
    The driver removed her hood and said, “Good day.” She had brown hair, roughly but not inexpertly cut to shoulder length, and wide-spaced brown eyes. Martin noted a lack of makeup, which seemed odd to him until he took a half second to think about it. I’m going to have to get used to that , he thought. Her cloak was like a large hooded poncho, but with sleeves. It was charcoal gray over a long skirt the color of oatmeal. All of her clothes looked very soft and very warm. She was making eye contact, and was smiling, which he found promising. Her teeth were whiter and straighter than he’d expected a medieval wench’s teeth to be.
    “Uh, good day!” Martin replied, then stared at her for a moment, unsure what to say next. The woman stared back.
    During his walk, Martin had thought about what demeanor he should maintain with the people he met in this time. He had settled on wise, mysterious, and commanding. In short, wizardly . This was his first chance to give it a shot.
    “Good lady,” he said, in a voice that was louder than he’d intended, “is there a town or a village nearby?”
    She continued to look him square in the eye and smile while considering her answer. Eventually she said, “Aye.”
    “Ah,” Martin said. He looked back down the road the way he came, then looked up the road the direction he was heading. “Is it far?”
    She said, “No, I expect to be there before dark.”
    Martin looked at her horse and wagon. The horse was smallish, but seemed healthy. The wagon looked primitive but sturdy, with wheels that were solid wood disks. Most importantly, the horse and the cart were both pointing a specific direction. He pointed the same way. “The village is this way, then?”
    “Aye.”
    “All right then. I guess I’ll see you there. Okay. Um. Good evening.”
    Martin took a step. The woman said, “Would you like to ride with me? The road can be dangerous, and I would not mind the company of a wizard.”
    Well, now we’re finally getting somewhere! he thought as he pulled himself up onto the bench next to her. The cart started moving. It was not a smooth ride, but it was far better than walking. He decided to try to listen more than he talked. He wanted to take in information, not give it away, but the young woman driving the cart seemed content to ride in silence. She was still smiling. She just wasn’t talking. There was information Martin needed, and if he was going to get it, he’d have to start the conversation.
    “How did you know I’m a wizard?”
    “That is a wizard’s robe, is it not?” she asked, not turning to look at him.
    “Indeed! Indeed it is! Yes,” he said.