Sorcerer's Son Read Online Free PDF

years.”
    “You could try”
    She shook her head. “No. I told myself once that I wouldn’t do that, and I have not changed my mind. He has some good reason for not returning; whether it be death or another woman, I have no desire to know.”
    With a new and heavier wooden blade, Cray practiced swordplay against a tree in the garden and then, when he learned a few of his mother’s tricks, against a moving, man-shaped bundle of cloth. It dodged and ducked among the flowers, bucking a latticework wooden shield against him, occasionally tapping at him with a branch covered in leather braid. He had some trouble controlling its movements, but that was to the good, to his mind, because it made the bundle an unpredictable adversary. Unfortunately, it had a tendency to fall limp to the ground during Cray’s moments of intense concentration on his own swordsmanship; when that happened too often, he went back to the tree.
    He practiced riding, too, on a pony his mother acquired from another sorcerer whose passion was four-footed creatures; she traded a fine tapestry that her son might gallop about the forest with only a few spiders to keep watch over him. With a willow withe as a lance, he charged imaginary foes, and when he returned to Spinweb’s sanctuary, he was as sweat-cloaked as his steed.
    In time he asked for a real sword and a real shield, a helm, chain mail, and a man’s horse. He was twelve years old.
    His mother rose from her weaving, hands on her hips. “Don’t you think, Cray, that you have played this game long enough? It is time for you to settle down to sorcery.”
    He leaned upon the stick that served him as sword, both hands upon its wooden hilt. “It is no game. Mother. I wish to be a knight.”
    Her mouth hardened into a white line. “I have indulged you out of love. I thought that while you played childish games your body would grow strong and straight; And it has. I never dreamed that your mind would not do the same.”
    “Mother, there is no shame in being a knight.”
    “There is death! If your father is dead, then knighthood was his killer!”
    “Mother, I am not suited to the sorcerous life.”
    “Why not? You do it well, the little you have learned. There is far more to know.”
    He looked down at his hands and shook his head. “It holds no interest for me.”
    “You will grow to love it, as I have.”
    “I would rather go out in the world and earn my bread with strength of arms than conjure it by magic.”
    “You think you are ready to go out in the world as a knight? Oh, my son, don’t think your prowess with a wooden sword and a tree make you ready to face a real opponent!”
    Again he shook his head. “I know I am not ready. But I would practice here in Spinweb with a real sword, and then I would go out to seek a teacher to better my skills.” He raised his eyes to hers, and his gaze was level with her own though he had not yet reached his full growth. “Mother, this is truly what I want. If you love me, you will help me to be the kind of man I must be.”
    She turned away from him. “If I love you, I must lose you—is that what you say? How can you ask it of me?”
    “I must go out in the world and meet other human beings.”
    “You can see them in the webs.”
    “I can see them, but I can’t speak to them. I can’t touch them.”
    “You are so young!”
    He laid the wooden sword down and stepped close to her to wrap his arms about her. “I will make this promise,” he said. “Give me the sword and the horse and the armor, and I will not leave you for another two years. I will stay here and laugh with you and be a loving son for another two years.”
    She leaned against him. “I have no sword and armor. I might find a horse that would suit you, but the choosing of arms should be up to you. I know too little of the matter. All sorcerers know too little of arms.” She hugged him tight. “Oh, my son, you must go to a town where merchants deal in swords and shields, you must ask for advice from men who understand such things.