Silvermay by James Moloney

with a faint air of disgust, then turned his eyes away from the groaning Delit to the villagers. This was a warning to anyone else who challenged his right to steal away the harvest. But when Delit began to clutch at his throat and the unmistakable gasps of a choking man filled our ears, he called to the Wyrdborn, ‘That’s enough.’
    Delit continued to gag. His face was turning blue.
    â€˜Do you hear me? Let him up!’ Norbett shouted, but the wizard didn’t want to hear him. His face shone with a brutal glee in what he was doing. Delit would certainly have died if the second Wyrdborn hadn’t stepped in and released him.
    What happened next fascinated me as much as it frightened me. As my father and two others rushed to help Delit, the Wyrdborn in the grey vest turned on the other. ‘What are you doing? You broke the enchantment!’
    â€˜You’d gone too far. Norbett called enough.’
    â€˜I wasn’t going to kill him. You should have stayed out of it.’
    â€˜Not when a fool like you loses his head.’
    For a fearful moment it seemed the two Wyrdborn would draw their swords and hack at one another. Menhad already begun to back away in case they were caught up in the struggle.
    â€˜Come to your senses, both of you,’ said the religo in a voice I’d heard parents use on warring children.
    Even then, the grey-vested man insisted on a last word. ‘If you interfere with my magic again, I’ll put that sword of yours through your ribs.’
    So my father’s stories were true. When he’d first told me of the Wyrdborn who lived among us, I had listened wide-eyed and shaking with fear that one person could be more powerful than a hundred. Then, as I grew older and learned more of the world, I began to question him.
    â€˜The king must be a Wyrdborn, then,’ I said. ‘To rule over so many, his magic would have to be stronger than the rest, wouldn’t it?’
    To my surprise, my father shook his head. ‘You would think so, yes, but our king is not Wyrdborn, and neither are the lords who steal our harvest. They are commonfolk like you and me.’
    He could see that this didn’t make sense to me so, with a grim smile, he explained further. ‘The Wyrdborn have great powers, but their weaknesses are almost as strong. Each thinks only of himself, and that makes every one of them greedy for what his powers alone can win. Because of this, they trust no one, they betray their allies as soon as it suits them and they are forever getting intopetty squabbles with other Wyrdborn just as powerful as themselves. No one Wyrdborn can ever dominate, because there are so many who would immediately be jealous of his power.’
    â€˜Are they all men?’ I asked.
    â€˜No, no. Women as well, and they can be just as heartless.’
    The only Wyrdborn I had seen came with the lord on his yearly visit.
    â€˜Do any live in the villages around Haywode?’ I asked.
    My father shook his head again. ‘Most drift towards an easy life in castles and palaces where rulers employ them instead of soldiers. Clever lords keep three or four Wyrdborn, and never less than two.’
    â€˜Why’s that? Why do they always have two?’
    That sad, knowing smile was back on his face. I couldn’t have been more than ten years old when we had this talk but he trusted me to understand. ‘If you have one servant who is more powerful than you, especially one who cares only for himself, he might kill you and take all you have as his own. But if you have two, and they are forever suspicious of one another, then a clever lord can play one against the other, so that each obeys in order to stop his companion gaining an advantage.’
    I had seen the sense in this, but until that day when Delit Sweetmead almost choked to death, I had neverseen the ruthless balance of Wyrdborn power with my own eyes.
    The loading of the wagons began. I stood watching