by Allan Cole
"You are a constant inspiration to me, Majesty, the prince said, smoothly. And I'll need ten thousand fiends for my vanguard."
The king gave them to him.
After much discussion with his generals, he also agreed that a five hundred thousand demon army would be raisedthe largest force in the history of Esmir. Backing them with war magic would be two thousand wizards, led by Lord Fari.
The preparations were massive and seemed to move on as slowly as the Turtle Gods carried the continents across the seas.
Making the task even more difficult were countless emergencies calling for his armies attentions. Within a single month troops had to be rushed to trouble spots a half-a-dozen times.
Manacia felt as if his whole kingdom was bulging at the seams, ready to erupt.
The feeling was intensified by the nightmares. As troubled night bled into troubled night, the king began to fix on the two human devils who always led the rushthe golden haired one and his blue-eyed companion. They became very real to him and he began to wonder who they might be.
When he could bear it no longer he called on Lord Fari and his wizards for an answer. He tried to make light of the dreams, but he knew he was fooling no one and Fari would mark it down as a weakness.
Starcharts were cast, but proved useless since no chart agreed with the next. With the gods at sleep, the heavens held no answers, although the dreamcatchers were ignorant of the reason for their failure.
Bone cups were rattled, the king had his palm read scores of times. All to no avail.
Finally Lord Fari had a human slave brought forth. He was tortured so his cries would please the gods, then while he was still alivehis belly was slit so the king's wizards could read the entrails.
Manacia watched with much interest as Fari leaned over the moaning victim, sniffing at the gaping wound.
"A healthy odor, Majesty, the old wizard reported. That's a lucky sign."
He scooped up a coil of entrails with a claw.
"Mercy, have mercy, the victim groaned.
Fari peered closely at the rope of tissue. Better still, Majesty, he said after a moment. This is a good strong bowel, symbolizing the soundness of Your Majesty's policies."
The human made a weak cry as Fari pulled up more of his innards. Please, the man whimpered, please."
"Aha! the old demon said. Here's our trouble, Majesty."
He held out a glistening coil. A thick rope of internal muscle jutted off of it, dividing into two blunt-ended tubes about an inch out.
"It's a cancer, Majesty, Fari said. Attached to the main branch. You see how it divides into two?"
Manacia nodded, he did indeed. Fari extended a talon and sliced each tube. Black blood gushed out.
"Mother of mercy! the victim screamed. And then he sagged, unconscious.
Satisfied that he had enough information, Fari let the entrails fall. Two slaves slithered over on their bellies to offer him perfumed water and towels to clean his claws.
Fari paced back and forth, wiping his claws and thinking. While he thought two other slaves approached and dragged the human away.
Fari noticed and his snout came up. The king will want the heart for his dinner, he ordered the slaves. Then he went back to his pacing.
Finally, when Manacia thought he no longer bear the suspense, Fari began to speak.
"Here is how I read it, Majesty, he said. The cancer, I fear, does represent a threat. The twin ropes drawing off energy from the main bowel are the two humans who bedevil Your Majesty's dreams. One is a king. The other a wizard."
"So what if one's a wizard? Manacia growled. Human magic is too weak to be a threat to us."
"Most certainly, Majesty, Fari said. But perhaps when joined with the king he makes a more imposing adversary. I cannot say. The entrails gave no clue to such things.
"But they did tell me that right now these two forcesking and wizardare apart. They began together, but then separated for some reason. At the moment each is independent of the other."
"When will they come together? the king asked.
Fari sighed, wiping the last of the gore from his claws. That was not revealed to me, Majesty, he said. He let the towel fall and a slave scrabbled over to pick it up.
"But what of my invasion? the king pressed. How long dare I wait? It seems to me the longer the delay, the more chance there is these two forces will come together."
"Quite true, Majesty, Fari said.
"Advise me, the king demanded. When do I invade?"
Fari didn't hesitate. The old demon felt quite sure of himself. The entrails had been that plain.
"In the spring, Majesty, he said. Soon as the first snow melts."
"And what of this king and this wizard? Manacia asked. They won't be together by then?"
"I don't believe so, Majesty, Fari said. They're too far away from one another. And unless some great wind sweeps one up and delivers him to the feet of the other, we have nothing to fear."
****
The storm that hastened the Cloudship over the Plains of Jaspar lasted for more than a week. The winds that drove it were as fierce as the love-making in Methydia's cabin.
For Safar it was a wondrous journey to the heart of a woman. In many ways Safar had always preferred the company of women. He'd been raised in a household of generous and intelligent females. As a child he'd sat in their company, so quiet they soon forgot he was about, and he'd listened intently to their troubles and dreams. Safar thought women dreamed better than men. They saw nuances and dimensions where men only saw flat featureless plains. Safar had been unfortunate in his first adult experience with women. Astarias had wounded him. Although he'd been careful not to judge all women by that experience, he couldn't help all the small doubts and fears that remained.
Methydia wiped them away in a stroke.
For Methydia the affair was altogether different. It shook her sensibilities. It rocked her mortality. She'd had many affairs; some for gain, some for lust, perhaps one or two for lovealthough as she grew older she'd started to think all three were the same and equaled love of self. But with Safar there was something extraa tantalizing mystery just beyond her grasp.
What Methydia always liked about young men was that they appreciated you so much. A woman merely had to be a woman and take the upper hand. Young menwell brought up young menwere so accustomed to obeying their mothers they were invariably relieved when responsibility was taken from them. She could beguile them with a look. Arouse them with a touch. Hold them at bay with a frown. Methydia was a consummate actress and could be all things to all men, but with the young it took less effort. There was more time to enjoy. As Biner often said, The boss likes her toys, she does. She likes em young with a key to wind em up."
Safar could have been such a toy, although she'd plucked him from the desert only out of kindness. When he became well and she'd noted his personality was as pleasing as his appearance, she'd considered him for her bed.
But what truly captivated Methydia was Safar's magical self. It was a beautiful essence, powerful and passionate. It was potentnever in her witchy days had she sensed such strengthbut there was good at the heart of it. Safar's spirit self wanted to call you friend before it called you foe. It was young, but graceful rather than clumsy. It had known deathwas miserable for being the cause of itand was reluctant to come out into the light again. For a time Methydia was intimidated by Safar's magical self. She didn't fear it, but she did worry if she wasn't careful she'd injure it so badly all the kindness would vanish. As a villain, a black wizard, a fully mature Safar Timura would be a terrible gift to the world.
Attractive as Safar was, she'd held herself back for a long time. In fact, Methydia had all but decided it'd be best to deny herself an affair.
The incident at Kyshaat had ripped her from that mooring.
In her long life Methydia thought she'd encountered just about everything. She'd visited many realms, entertained many people. She'd dealt with danger and evil aplenty; but in her
heart she believed good more than outweighed evil, there were more blessings than ill fortune and she'd made it her life's work to remind people of these qualities.
As a witch she was well aware the sorcerous landscape was riddled with magicians and entities whose sole purpose was to cause harm. She'd always managed to evade such things. To Methydia magic came from the earth itself. She believed she drew her powers directly from nature, which to her was a loving, grandmotherly presence.
The creature she encountered at Kyshaat had badly cracked that image. When it rose out of the ground it was as if the earth itself were attacking her. That nature had suddenly revealed its true self and it had a jackal's face. In that awful moment when the earth beast had towered over her she'd thought she'd lost both her life and her soul.
Safar had saved them both.
She'd fled into his arms for comfort and safety and sheer joy at being alive. For a week she hid there from all the terrors the creature had aroused. Yet they gnawed at the edges. Deep in the night, while the storms howled outside and Safar slept, Methydia let them come out one by one. Examining them in turn. In the end she concluded the beast at Kyshaat was the harbinger of doom. That it was only the first of many evils that lay ahead.
Her instincts told her only Safar could fight the dark tide.
As soon as she thought this she knew she'd lost him. It wasn't possible for Safar to remain with the circus. It would be a much happier life for him, but it was Safar's tragedy that all such happiness would be denied him. And one day it would be Methydia's sad duty to point him down the bleak road of his fate.
She said nothing of this to Safar. When she thought the time was right she gently quizzed him about further details of his past. Everything he said confirmed her view. He told her about the vision of Hadin and its destruction, his fears of future disasters, his search for knowledge in Walaria, his discovery of the demon Asper and how in the end the master wizard's works had been denied him. He showed her the stone turtle Nerisa had given him and she mourned with him the faint pulse of nearly dying life inside.
"I was a fool for even trying to find the answer, Safar said bitterly. What would it matter if I did? There's nothing a potter's boy from Kyrania could do about it."
Then he swore he'd always love her, always stay with her and he'd never return to the dull, heavy existence of earthbound mortals who stared up at the sky in wonder as the Cloudship sailed overhead.
Methydia kept her silence. It would do him no good to tell him what she thought. But she had to be certain Safar was prepared for whatever was in store for him.
She determined that in the time remaining to them she'd teach him everything she knew about magical guile and peoples artifice. She'd give him all the love she had in heremotions she'd kept locked away to better arm herself against the world. She'd bolster his confidence, free him as best she could from his own self-imposed restraints.
And when the time came she'd steel herself and make him confront his destiny.
****
The storms continued with barely a day between each new blow. The winds drove them onwardacross the plains of Jaspar.
They saw much misery in the land the Cloudship passed over. Ruined villages, stripped fields where great armies had passed. Even in the heaviest rains they saw thousands of refugees slogging along the roads, making their way to the gods knew where. They saw the aftermath of fighting; huge muddy fields littered with corpses of men and animals.
The sight made them all moody. Only the most necessary words were exchanged. Safar was moodiest of all, staring out over the bleak landscape before them. Then one day they crossed a low mountain range. And when they broke through the clouds the skies were sunny, the air brisk.
They were floating over a large, peaceful valley. The valley floor was a patchwork of bright green orchards interspersed with blue creeks, gaily-painted villages, bordered by shaded gardens. All looked healthy and prosperous and there was no sign of the troubles they'd encountered before.
A fresh wind pushed the Cloudship forward. At the far edge of the valley was a small city with pearly walls and graceful buildings rising up from behind them.
Safar leaned out over the rails to get a closer look. The sight brought a smile to his face.
"What is this place? he asked.
"The city of Sampitay, Methydia said. We've never played there before. But I've heard good things about it. An entertainer's paradise, I'm told."
Safar mused, dimly recalling Gubadan's geography lessons. Then he recognized the orchardswhite mulberry trees. Sampitay was well known for its fine silks and the royal yellow dye taken from the roots of the trees.
"Sampitay, Biner said. That's a lucky place. Now I'm sorry I cursed the gods so harshly for all that bad weather."
Safar turned and looked back at the mountains. Big banks of clouds, driven by a far off storm, were scudding across the sky after them. It was about time, he thought, that the winds of fate took a gentler turn.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE RETURN OF PROTARUS
Safar knew there was something wrong before the first performance.
The crowds greeting them were enthusiastic enough, as were the soldiers who directed them to the field outside the city gates. The roustabouts set the circus up in record time and the seats for the first show were sold out before the ticket booth was in place.
The good citizens of Sampitay were so hungry for entertainment they lined up, begging to be relieved of the price of admission, while the Cloudship was still unloading. Methydia's troupe was forced to give a hasty first performance, cutting the encores short so an impatient second audience could be admitted.
No art was required to please them. They roared laughter at the slightest clown antic, gasped in terror at the merest slip of an acrobat, moaned in suspense at Methydia's and Safar's slightest magical gesture.
Oddly enough the troupe was discontented.
"I could fart and get a laugh, Biner complained.
"I could whistle through my fangs and they'd be thrilled, Elgy said.
"They're tho eathy I want to thpit, Arlain said. And the godth know what happenth when I thpit!"
Green as he was, Safar felt a wrongness in the overly-wild applause he received when he cast the first purple-colored smoke pellet that began his performance. He sensed an hysterical edge to the crowd's huzzahs.
During his mind reading act he announced a maid named Syntha was to be wed soon and her love would always be true. The young woman in question shrieked such joy at this newswhich Safar had received courtesy of a big-eared roustaboutthe entire audience was reduced to tears.
"What's wrong with them? he asked Methydia between performances.
Methydia smiled thinly. She seemed distracted, applying her makeup with a heavy hand. Are you so accustomed to applause, she asked, that you've already begun to question it?"
"Come on, Safar said. I'm not the only one. Elgy said the last time he played before an audience like this it turned out his troupe had wandered into the middle of a plague."
"The fear of death, Methydia said, does have a way of exciting people's interest in life."
"Do you know something the rest of us don't? Safar asked, growing irritated.
"Only this, Methydia said, passing him a large ornate card with a distinctive seal of gold wax. We are to give a command performance tonight for Queen Arma and her royal consort."
Safar looked at the card, an honor at any other time, and said, Why is this bad news?"
"Because it was accompanied by a chest of silk, Methydia said. And that silk, according to the messenger who delivered it, is an advance payment on a week's worth of free performances for the queen's subjects."
"A morale booster? Safar asked.
"I'm talking about a dozen bolts of the finest Sampitayan silk, Methydia said.
Safar, who'd spent his life on a caravan route, had a good idea what that was worth. How much morale-boosting do they need? he said. And why?"
"I
don't know, Methydia answered. The messenger was quite polite, but he worked hard to avoid answering my questions. It was as if he expected us to pack up and leave at the slightest hint of trouble. He went on for an hour about what a wonderful ruler Arma was, the excellent health of her children, the esteem all her subjects hold her in. And the soundness of her kingdom."
Safar winced. In Walaria he'd learned to read fear on the face of royal posture. Maybe we'd better go, he said.
"I've arrived at the same conclusion, Methydia said. I told the messenger we had pressing business elsewhere. And we couldn't stay longer than the week purchased by Her Majesty."
Safar, remembering the incident at Kyshaat, said, What if we slipped off tonight?"
"I've also considered that course, Methydia said. Much can happen in a week. But I don't think we dare cut our visit too short. We might bring down the wrath of Queen Arma by making a hasty exit. I think it'd be best if we gave the queen the command performance she asked for, then quietly loaded the circus back on the Cloudship. We can do without some of the sets. And make it look like we're unloading things while we're actually putting them aboard. Three nights, no more, and we'll be on our way."
"But the queen paid in advance, Safar pointed out. What about all that silk?"
"I'll leave it behind, Methydia said. It's bad money and I don't want any part of it."
****
As it turned out three days was too long. The circus overshot its luck the night of the command performance.
Knowing she was going to abandon Sampitay as soon as possible, Methydia roused the troupe to put on its best show ever.
Safar, drawing on his years of schooling in Walaria, had created a new kind of magical lighting. The circus tried out his ideas for the first time the night Queen Arma held court in the main tent.
A blazing full moon greeted the royal visitors as they entered the tent. Safar made the moon a spotlight, picking out the grand moment of each performance, then dimmed it with onrushing clouds during costume changes. Flares burst up in the arena during the featured performances, turning all into a mystical herky-jerky of amazing motion.
