by Allan Cole
Safar cleared his throat and picked up the turtle. Nerisa tensed for words of scornful dismissal.
"This spell will be much easier if you help me," he said calmly.
Nerisa’s reprieved heart soared. She leaped to her feet. "What do you want me to do?" she asked eagerly.
He pointed to a battered trunk across the room. "You’ll find a wooden case in there," he said, "with most of the things I need. Then, if it’s no trouble, you might start a fire under the brazier."
"No trouble at all," she said, adopting Safar’s casual tones.
She fetched him the case, and while she got the fire going he poured different colors of scented oils into a wide-mouthed jar. Then he sprinkled packets of mysterious powders and strong-smelling herbs into the oil, mixing it all together with a stone mortar. Nerisa heard him chanting as he worked, but his voice was so low she couldn’t make out the words. When he judged the fire hot enough, he carried the large jar and turtle to the brazier. He set the jar on the grate and while it heated he drew colored chalk marks on the floor, making an elaborate, many-sided design that enclosed the fire.
When he was done he said, "Now, if you’ll sit right there..." He motioned to a spot well inside the design.
She did as he directed, scooting in as close as she could to the brazier. Safar sat across from her. His image appeared watery through the heated fumes rising from the jar.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
She nodded.
"We’ll get started then," he said. "But you have to promise me you won’t laugh if I make a mistake. I’m just a student, you know."
Nerisa giggled. She was sure that, student or not, Safar just had to be the best wizard in all Esmir. Then she realized how relaxed she’d become since he’d asked her to help. She wondered if his request had been a ploy to put her at ease. If so, she loved him even more for it.
Safar sniffed the fumes. "It’s ready now," he said.
"What do I do?" she asked.
Safar handed her a long-handled brush with a narrow blade made of boar’s bristles. "Dip this into the jar," he told her. "Stir it around and get a good load on the bristles."
She stirred the brush through the thick, bubbling mixture. She wrinkled her nose at the fumes, although later she couldn’t have said if the scent was foul or fair, sweet or sour. Safar signaled with a nod and she withdrew it. He picked up the stone turtle, centered it in his flattened right palm, then extended it over the fumes.
"Now paint the turtle’s back," he said.
Nerisa gently stroked the brush across the green image of the island. Although the mixture from the jar was tarry black, it left only gray streaks on the green.
"Lay it on thick," Safar said. "This isn’t a job for a timid hand."
Nerisa furrowed her brow and daubed with a will until the goo spread all over the stone and spilled into Safar’s hand.
"That’s exactly right," he said. "Now dip up some more and do another coat. Thicker than the last, if you can. But this time we need a chant to help things along. So listen closely to what I say and repeat it exactly."
Nerisa nodded understanding, loaded the brush again, and as she laid the mixture across the idol’s back they chanted together:
"Light dawning through the night,
What pearls hide beneath the stone?
All that is dark emerge into bright,
Give flesh to rock and marrow to bone."
Nerisa’s pulse quickened as she saw a faint light emanating from the stone idol. She swore she saw the turtle’s legs move and then she gasped as the idol twitched into life and scuttled across Safar’s palm. He whispered for her to be still and laid the turtle on the floor. Instantly the light died and the idol sank down, freezing into its former lifeless pose. Safar swore, then looked up to give Nerisa an abashed grin.
"This is going to be harder than I thought," he said. "We could chant all night and still not come up with the right spell.
From his sleeve he withdrew a small silver knife, double-edged and etched with elaborate and mysterious designs. It was the witch’s knife Coralean had given him to unravel difficult problems.
"Fortunately," he said, indicating the knife, "I have a way to cheat."
Again he signaled for Nerisa to be silent and he laid the knife against the idol’s stone shell - point touching the red painted mountain with the monster’s face. He chanted:
"Conjure the key
That fits the lock.
Untangle the traces,
And cut the knot..."
Safar’s voice dipped lower and the rest of the chant was lost to Nerisa. But she was so struck by his intensity that she probably wouldn’t have heard the words even if they’d been shouted. She’d never seen such concentration. Safar’s eyes seemed to be turned inward, smoldering with smoky blue fire. A soft light formed about his whole body, a rosy band shot with pinpricks of color. His long face shone with perspiration, making the hollows seem deeper and the edges sharper. Nerisa smelled the faint musk rising from his body and felt a great calm settle around her like the softest of blankets. Her eyes, as if they had a will of their own, fixed on the monster’s painted face and became riveted there.
Safar gave the stone a final sharp rap with his knife and suddenly the monster’s face broke free from the stone, floating up and up, and then the painted eyes blinked into life and its mouth moved, forming words:
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Nerisa heard it say.
A body formed beneath the face, and Nerisa pulled back in surprise as a little creature, perhaps three hands high, hopped off the turtle’s back and stood on the floor. It had the visage of a toad, with huge eyes and a mouth stretched wide to reveal four needle-sharp fangs. But the rest of its body was that of an elegant little man, richly clothed in a form-fitting costume covering it from toe to neck. The creature seemed angry, hands perched on narrow hips, ugly toad head turned toward the stone turtle.
"If you don’t shut up," it said to the idol, "I’ll make you! Just wait and see if I don’t!" Then the creature looked up at Safar, complaining, "He gives me a headache! Always talking. Never listening. Sometimes I can’t even hear myself think!"
"I’m sorry you’re forced to live with such noisy company," Safar said, as natural as could be. "But in case you haven’t noticed you’ve just been summoned. And if you’ll pardon my rudeness, whatever quarrel you have with your companion is of no interest to us."
The creature glared at Safar, then at Nerisa. "That’s the trouble with humans," he said. "No concern for others." He cocked his head at the idol as if listening, then nodded. "I couldn’t agree more, Gundaree, " he said to the idol. "For a change you speak wisely." Then, to Safar, he said, "Gundaree says all humans are selfish. And you’ve certainly done nothing since we met to disprove it."
"Who is Gundaree?" Safar asked.
The creature snorted, tiny flames shooting from its nostrils. "My twin! Who else?" He spoke as if Safar were the most ignorant mortal in existence.
"And you are?"
Another fiery snort. "Gundara, that’s who!"
"Why hasn’t your twin also appeared?" Safar asked. "Tell him to come out so we can see him."
Gundara shrugged, the gesture as graceful as a dancer’s. "He never appears to humans," he said. "It’s not in the rules. I take care of your sort. He does the demons."
"Then you do understand you’ve been summoned," Safar said. "And that you must do my bidding."
Gundara hopped up on a three-legged stool, perching there so he was eye-level with Safar. "Sure, sure. I understand. Bid away, O Master of Rudeness. But would you mind getting to it? I haven’t eaten my dinner yet." He gestured at the idol. "That damned greedy twin of mine will get it all if I don’t get back soon."
He turned to Nerisa, perhaps hoping to find more sympathy there. "You won’t believe how hard it is to come by a decent meal when you live in a stone idol."
"I can see how it might be," Nerisa said. She rummaged in a pocket and came
up with a sweet.
Gundara’s eyes lit up. "Haven’t had a taste of sugar in a thousand years," he said. He held out a tiny hand for the treat.
Nerisa hesitated, looking at Safar. He nodded for her to go ahead and she extended the sweet, which was immediately grabbed by Gundara and popped into his mouth. He chewed, closing his eyes as if he were in paradise. Then he gave a delicate flick of his long red tongue, picking off any stray sugar crumbs from his lips.
When he was done he turned Safar. "What do you want, human? And don’t make it too difficult. You don’t get the world for a sweet, you know."
"First I want to know something about you," Safar said. "Where are you from? And what is your purpose?"
Gundara sighed. "Why do I get all the stupid ones?" he complained. "Three times out in five hundred years and each one dumber than the other."
Safar proffered the silver knife and the creature shrank back, petulant look turning to one of fear. "I’ve had just about enough of your smart talk," Safar said. "I’m the one in command here."
"There’s no reason to get so excited," Gundara replied.
"Answer my questions," Safar demanded.
"I’m from Hadin, where else?" Gundara said. "My twin and I were made there long ago. How long, I can’t really say. A few thousand years, at least. We were a gift to a witch on her coronation as queen."
"And your purpose?" Safar asked.
"We’re Favorites," Gundara said, rolling his eyes at such a stupid question. "We help wizards and witches with their spells."
"You said you and your twin’s duties were divided between humans and demons," Safar said. "Why is this?"
"How do I know?" Gundara said with barely disguised disgust. "That’s how we were made, is all. Those are the rules. I do humans. Gundaree does demons. Simple as that."
"Is your twin exactly like you?" Safar asked.
Gundara laughed, and the sound was like glass breaking. "Not in the slightest," he said. "I’m beautiful, as you can see. Gundaree, on the other hand, has a human face." The creature shuddered. "What could be uglier than that, no offense intended, I’m sure."
"How did you come to be in Esmir?" Safar asked.
"Now that," Gundara said, "is the saddest tale in the whole history of tragic stories. We were being transported in the Queen’s treasure chest and pirates attacked our ship. From that time on we have been the property of the foulest creatures you can imagine. Traded from one filthy hand to another. Then we got mixed in with worthless goods about fifty years ago and were lost. We’ve been living in market stalls ever since. Ignored by everyone."
He gave Nerisa a fond look. "That was quite a trick you pulled at the market place," he said. "I’ve always thought females made the smartest humans." Nerisa blushed, but said nothing.
Gundara turned to Safar. "I suppose my twin and I are stuck with you for awhile," he said. "Until somebody kills you, or you trade us to someone else, that is."
"If you don’t show some manners soon," Safar replied, "I’ll make you and your brother a gift to the oldest, dirtiest, wartiest witch in all Esmir."
"Okay, okay," Gundara said. "Don’t get so upset. I was only making conversation."
"What can you do," Safar asked, "besides act as my Favorite?"
"As if that wasn’t enough," Gundara grumbled. "I guess no one’s satisfied with good, sound sorcerous enhancement these days. Why, in the old -" he broke off when he saw Safar’s warning look. "Never mind. Forget I said anything. Apparently a poor Favorite doesn’t even have the gods-given right to grumble around here. If you want more, more you shall get. I can fetch and carry things that would be fatal for a mortal to touch. I can also spy on your enemies, if you like. Although that’s kind of limited since I can’t get more than about twenty feet from the turtle. So you’d have to hide me in your enemy’s quarters, or whatever else your feeble human imagination can come up with. I’m also pretty good at giving warning if evil-doers are about."
Gundara snickered at some private joke. "As a matter of fact," he said, "if I were you I’d command me to get busy with that job right now."
"What do you mean?" Safar demanded.
Another snicker. "Never mind," Gundara said. "My loyalty can only be tested so far, you know. If you can’t take a hint, O Wise Master, sod off!"
"Favorite!" Safar barked. "Post guard! Immediately!"
The creature laughed and hopped to his feet. "Right away, Master!" he said. "Never fear, Gundara is near!"
Then, to Nerisa, "The only reason I said anything at all, my dear, is that you were nice to me. Gave poor Gundara a sugar treat to snack on, you did. If those men outside were coming for my sour-humored Master, I wouldn’t have said anything at all.
"But they’re coming for you, Nerisa. And if you’re the cunning little dear I think you are, you’ll get out of here quick!"
With that there was a sharp pop! and Gundara vanished.
Instinct jolted Nerisa to her feet and without a word she threw herself at the window. She disappeared through it just as the door slammed open and four very large, very pale men rushed inside. Safar scooped up the idol, hiding it in his robes as he scrambled to his feet to confront the invaders.
"What’s the meaning of this?" he demanded.
The tallest and palest of the men answered, "Any meaning I like, Acolyte Timura! Now, tell me where the thief Nerisa is! And tell me quick if you value your hide!"
Safar’s heart climbed into his throat.
The man confronting him was Lord Kalasariz - Walaria’s notorious spymaster.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Kalasariz
Tall as Safar was, the spy master was taller and so thin and pale in his black robes and skull cap that he looked like a specter.
Safar should have abased himself - should have fallen to his knees and knocked his head against the floor, begging his Lord’s forbearance. But he had to give Nerisa time to escape so instead he brazened it out, rudely yawning and stretching his arms as if he’d been awakened from a deep sleep.
"Forgive me, my friend," he said, "but I’ve been studying late. Exams coming up, you know."
"How dare you call me Friend!" Kalasariz roared.
Safar peered at him in mock surprise, then shrugged. "My mistake," he said. "I can see from your attitude that few, if any, would care to make that claim."
"Don’t you know who I am?" Kalasariz thundered.
"Apparently not," Safar lied. "Or I’d know how to properly beg you to please lower your voice. I’m of nervous disposition. Loud sounds make me ill and I find it difficult to concentrate."
"I am Lord Kalasariz," the spy master hissed. "Do you know that name, bumpkin?"
Safar scratched his head, then pretended to jolt and gape. "Forgive me, Lord," he said, bobbing his head. "I had no idea that-"
"Silence!" Kalasariz commanded. "I asked you a question when I entered. Answer it now - where is the thief, Nerisa?"
Safar put on his best look of puzzlement. "Nerisa? Now, where do I know that name? Nerisa? Is she the wife of the baker on Didima Street? No, that can’t be..." He snapped his fingers. "I’ve got it! You mean that child that hangs around the Foolsmire? Is that who you seek?"
"You know very well who I mean, Acolyte Timura," Kalasariz said.
Safar nodded. "I do now, Lord," he said. "But I don’t know where she is. Except... have you checked at the Foolsmire? She sleeps there sometimes."
"I know that," Kalasariz gritted out.
"I suppose you would," Safar said. "Being chief sp- I mean Guardian of Walaria and all."
"Do you deny you were in her company today?" Kalasariz demanded.
"No, I... uh... suppose I don’t deny it," Safar said. "But I can’t confirm it either." He gave a sheepish grin. "I was taken drunk most of the day, you see. I don’t remember much about it. Maybe I saw Nerisa. Maybe I didn’t. Sorry I can’t be of more help."
"I dislike your manner, Safar Timura," Kalasariz said. "Perhaps you think you�
�re safe from me because you are under the protection of Lord Umurhan. That I have no sway over University affairs."
"Forgive my rough mountain manners, Lord," Safar said. "Sometimes I unintentionally give city people offense. I know quite well that you are charged with seeing the law is kept in Walaria. Quite naturally those duties would include the temple and university."
Kalasariz ignored him, peering about Safar’s room, long nose twitching like a hunting ferret’s.
To draw away suspicion, Safar plunged onward. "Pardon my foolishness, Lord," he said, "but why would someone of your eminence be looking for a common thief? And a child thief, at that?"
Kalasariz’ eyes swept and Safar suddenly felt very cold as he was confronted by the spymaster’s glittering eyes. "I was told you were the brightest student at the university," the spymaster said. "Too bright for your own good, perhaps. And disdainful of rules and authority."
He paused, waiting to see if Safar would be foolish enough to answer. At last he nodded in satisfaction. "At least you’re bright enough to know when to keep your tongue still," he said. "I’ll answer your question two ways, Acolyte Timura. If you’re so intelligent you’ll know which one to choose for a correct answer.
"The first is this: I’m looking for the girl because an informant has reported that she is a vital messenger for a group of traitorous students."
Safar needed no acting help to make his eyes widen. "Nerisa?" he said, amazed.
Kalasariz’ eyes gleamed with renewed suspicion. "Are you claiming you know nothing of these students?"
Safar knew better than to lie about something that was common knowledge in Walaria. "I’ve heard, Lord," he said, "that there are certain students at the University who are misguided enough to question the policies of the good King Didima." Then seeing that this bit of truth had been swallowed without difficulty he chanced a lie. "I have no personal experience or knowledge about those foolish ones," he said. "Just as I had no idea who you were when you came into my room. I have no interest in politics, My Lord. Nor have I ever displayed any."
