The Flying Sorcerers

by David Gerrold

  “Well…?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. He continued to scratch.

  “There is one other thing you should consider, Shoogar. Purple always claimed that his spells did not depend on the gods or on the configurations of the moons. You’ve always thought that he was lying. But if he is not, then the endless sunlight does not hamper him.”

  He didn’t answer — but at least he stopped scratching.

  “Well? Will you wait? Or will you at least agree not to do anything until you talk it over with me?”

  He looked up. I’ll talk it over with you before I do any-thing.”

  “Fine.”

  When I left he was still cursing the sky — but at least he was packing away his spellcasting equipment.

  That settled, I went back to Hinc and the others and reported that we had nothing to fear from an immediate duel. Shoogar would not move without consulting me first. I told them we would stay here.

  There was again some grumbling, but we were committed to this course of action — if not by my authority as Speaker, then certainly by the authority of the all-encompassing sea. Clearly, they had not expected me to fare so well with Shoogar, but since I had, they were left with no choice but to honor my claim to the office. It was as if the Gods themselves were backing me up.

  As they wandered back to their tents I called my two sons, Wilville and Orbur, to me. Wilville, noticing my smile, asked, “Why are you so eager to stay here? This area teems with trouble. That Purple is still alive bodes not well for us.”

  “Oh, I think that situation can be handled. The advantages of staying here far outweigh the disadvantages.”

  “Advantages?” asked Orbur incredulously. He was the darker of the two.

  “Certainly — you’re a bicycle builder — you must have noticed the quality and variety of woods around here. Fine bambooze shoots, spirit-pine, sparkling aspen, birts, vampire-oaks — also fibertrees, nevergreens and cranials. One can build fine bicycles with the materials at hand here. In fact, one could probably build anything with the materials here. Did you not notice there are no bicycles or bicycle builders at all in the lower village? You will have the market all to yourselves.”

  Wilville nodded eagerly. “Our father is right, Orbur. There is much work here.”

  “You are thinking right, Wilville — there is. You can start by contacting the neighboring villages for me. I want you to locate the nearest sources of dry bone, wet bone, petrified bone and so on. It seems they don’t have a good bonemonger here either …”

  Now I headed down toward the lower village and my meeting with Gortik.

  This time it would be just the two of us, without our squabbling councils to hinder us. We had finished with the formalities of the greetings, and now we could get down to the real business of negotiating.

  Of course, we had no choice in the matter. I and my fellow villagers were here for the duration of the wading season. Gortik and I had to come to some sort of agreement on how our two villages could survive till the onset of the next conjunction.

  To tell the truth, I was uneasy. This would be the first time I would have to Speak for my whole village and make decisions for them. It was one thing to browbeat one’s own people for their own good — quite another to attempt it with a perfect stranger.

  I carried with me a token of luck in lieu of the new Speaking Token which Shoogar had not yet begun to build. (One of the most important ingredients he still had not located — a stone the weight of a small child. Indeed, we had not even selected the small child yet, whose weight was to be the standard of the token.)

  I felt unsure of myself without a proper Speaking Token — and worried that I might not do a proper job. “A token, a token,” I mumbled, “my village for a token.” But I tottered down the slope, determined to do the best Speaking I could without it.

  There was a shout from behind me. I paused. My first wife came running down the hillside, her skirt flapping, her breasts bouncing, her hobbles giving her a peculiar short-gaited run. “Lant, oh brave Lant, wait!”

  I waited.

  She hurried up to me, “My brave Speaker, you have forgotten your amulet of shrewd mongering.”

  “But I don’t need it, woman,” I admonished her. “I am going to Speak. I have a token of skillful language as well as one of luck. What do I need with a monger’s token?”

  She looked crestfallen. “I am sorry, my brave one. You are right. It is just that I wanted to do something to help you — I wanted to give you something to aid your Speaking and all I could think of was your monger’s amulet. I thought perhaps it might help — a little bit anyway.”

  “How could it?” I scoffed. “I am not going there as a monger, but as a Speaker.”

  “You are right, my wise master.” She began kissing and stroking my feet. “I do not know what it is that Speakers do — but I thought it was something like mongering, so I — I’m sorry. I take up your time. I will go and flog myself.”

  She looked so unhappy and woebegone: her hair had fallen out in patches and lost its once-proud sleekness, her shape was heavy with child; I felt a surge of pity for her. “Here, woman, wait. Give me the amulet. It could not hurt to carry it. It will not help, of course, but I will take it because you thought it important.”

  Trivial words, of course, easy enough for me to say — but they cheered her immensely. She smiled gratefully and threw herself at my feet in gratitude.

  “Here now, here now — that’s enough kissing. You want the other wife to think I am favoring you with an inordinate amount of affection?” I bade her rise, took the amulet and sent her back to the encampment.

  I continued downward to the lower village.

  The wide river swept through it on its surging course to the sea. Great black housetrees lined both sides of its banks. There were many frog-tending ponds and dams, and there were terraced riceblossom pools along the river banks. Off to one side, well away from the village proper was a tree so misshapen that had it been human, it surely would have been stillborn. Clearly, that was the nest of Purple the Magician.

  But that was not my destination. Not yet. First I would speak to Gortik.

  As I entered the village proper, a curious ragtag of villagers and children began to follow me. Some of the children tried to taunt me, but were hushed by their elders. All followed curiously as I strode between the shady trunks. The blackgrass crunched under my feet.

  I could not help but admire the size of the trees and the skillfull weaving of the nests hanging from them. They spoke of prosperity. It takes extensive care to make a tree grow as big as it must to support a house. That this village had so many spoke well of the wealth of its inhabitants.

  The Speaker’s glade was a shady area lined with gentle birts and yellow aspen. Here no women, no children and no villagers outside the first circle were allowed.

  I held a rank which allowed me to enter, but in the interests of politics I gave Gortik the courtesy of officially granting me the right. He stepped forward, bade me enter — but not before he had first chased away a by now sizable crowd of onlookers. The arrival of my village must have been the most exciting thing to happen here for some time.

  Gortik and I sat in the glade and exchanged formalities. We chewed raba-root and talked about the Gods and the weather. We each traded two syllables of our respective names, more an indication of a growing — and necessary — mutual trust than a sign of respect.

  We traded our histories as well. I did not go into much detail in the telling of mine — merely that I had been chosen Speaker by acclamation of my fellow villagers because of my bravery and courage.

  Gortik was impressed. He told me how he had become Speaker for his tribe — how he had fought for the honor many times, and how each time he had been defeated — but only narrowly, mind you — how his village had had a succession of terrible Speakers one after the other, how one had been killed for his audacity, how a second had been disgraced and a third laughed out of power. At last t
hese gentle villagers had realized that Gortik had been right all along, and they hailed him as their new Speaker.

  It was an impressive story, all right. I didn’t believe him any more than he believed me; but I was thoroughly impressed with Gortik’s skill as Speaker.

  “It is no secret,” Gortik said then, “that your tribe needs a place to settle permanently.”

  I nodded. “You are right, it is no secret. One can get tired of traveling.”

  “I find that hard to believe. Why, the excitement, the ad-venture!”

  “Yes,” I admitted, “we love to sit and talk about them. We were a brave people to have faced the dangers of such a migration. It was the dangers behind us that helped to make us brave.” Then, changing the subject, This is a rich area you have here.”

  “Oh, no,” Gortik protested. “We are really quite poor. Quite poor. We go hungry throughout much of the ungrowing season.”

  “Then you have not been exploiting the land properly,” I countered. “Our tribe could grow enough on this land to feed both villages.”

  “Ah, you exaggerate again. We have trouble feeding our-selves. There is not space enough for a good crop, let alone room to plant a decent number of housetrees.”

  “Your village belies that — there are more than enough housetrees in your village. Many are empty. And there are other housetrees high on the slope, unused as well. There is room for us there, above the aspenwood.”

  “That is our migration ground. We will need it later when the waters rise.”

  “It is still a roomy area — there are a great many housetrees there.”

  “Hardly enough,” he shook his head. “Hardly enough — and in poor repair. Poor repair.”

  “Nonsense. My villagers could put those trees m shape within a hand of days and have decent nests hanging from every one within a second hand.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “We could show you. As I said, we have many skills that your village obviously must not have, or you would be living better than you do now.”

  “We live as well as we can.”

  “Do you have a decent bonemonger among you?”

  “Bonemongering is a northern trade. We do not — honor “it here.”

  “More’s the pity — you are missing out on much that would make your life easier. We have other trades as well, which you lack.”

  “And suppose we did let you demonstrate your vastly superior talents and abilities — what would you expect in return?”

  “The right to settle — say, on that piece of land above the woods.”

  Gortik shook his head slowly. “That is not living land. That land is unusable for men.”

  “It is unusable for you, you mean. We are not cropmongers as you people are. We do not need to live near the rivers, nor do we need to migrate every year to avoid the swelling waters. We are mountain folk and make our living off the sheep, the goats, the high pastures. We do not go hungry during the time of ungrowing, the season of sweat.”

  “Humph, Lant, I doubt much of what you say — your clothes are rude, badly woven to say the least. And animal skins do not indicate the quality of spells you claim to have. One who is civilized no longer needs to wear animal skins.”

  “That’s true for your village.” I said, “because you are weavers. We are not. We are craftsmen — have you any bicycle makers?”

  “Bicycles?”

  “Ah ha, you do not. It is a vehicle with wheels which enables its rider to travel great distances in one day.”

  “And I suppose you use scavenger pigs and dogs to pull it in the manner of the western barbarians?”

  “Ah, you show your ignorance, Gortik. The bicycle requires no animals at all — it moves by magic alone.”

  “By magic alone?” He was incredulous.

  “Of course,” I said, not without some small tone of superiority. If these people did not know even of bicycles, they must be stupid indeed. “One sits astride it and chants and pedals — the harder one chants, the faster he goes. You must chant hard, of course, to get up a hill; but that stores so much magic in the machine that one need hardly chant at all on the way down.”

  “I would like to see one of these fabulous devices.”

  “Shoogar has one now — he has had it since his duel with Purple. It used to be mine, but I would not dare ask Shoogar for its return — it would be an insult. It is no matter. My sons can build others.”

  “Could they build one for me?”

  “Quite probably.”

  “I would be the only one in my village with such a device, wouldn’t I?”

  “You are the Speaker here,” I said. “If you felt that the magic of a bicycle was too dangerous for the rest of your people, your word would be law.”

  His eyes narrowed shrewdly, “Do you think I could get away with it?”

  I nodded reluctantly. It was obvious what Gortik wanted. Being the only owner of a bicycle would enhance his mana greatly. I did not want to do such a thing, nor did I want to limit the market for my son’s devices — but if it was the only thing which I could offer him in return for the right to stay, then I had no choice. He still had the right to demand we move on when the wading season ended. I sighed and nodded again.

  He beamed. “Then it is settled, Lant. You and your village will give me a bicycle, in return for which I will allow you to demonstrate your supposedly very great housemaking skills by clearing and cleaning our migration ground for us.”

  “Ah, Gortik, my friend,” I answered, “you are correct in your manner, but you have misstated the terms of the agreement. We are lending you a bicycle for your use. In return you are granting us your migration area for our use. As a sign of our goodwill we will offer to teach your people what skills they will need to survive the season of ungrowing.”

  “Ah, Lant, my devoted friend, my lifelong companion, you are the one who misstates the agreement. You have forgotten the bounty of ten sheep which you have offered me for a great feast in my honor.”

  “Ah, Gortik, my faithful brother, my generous colleague, I have not forgotten them — indeed, I have not thought of them at all. Such a feast is an honor intended only for those Gods who have wrought mighty miracles.”

  “Lant, you are the playmate of my spratling years. Have I not earned such an honor?”

  “Ah, Gortik, we are more than playmates — we are sucklings at the same breast. I would deny you nothing. You need only ask and it is yours. I offer you, out of the boundless affection of my own heart, six sheep so that your people may start a flock of their own.”

  “Ah, but Lant, my illustrious advisor — my people are not shepherds. The animals would die.”

  “Gortik, Gortik, your wisdom is unsurpassed. Of course we cannot give the sheep to the untrained shepherd. You will grant us three young men to watch them. We will keep your sheep with ours and teach your men how to be shepherds. Shoogar will teach them the necessary spells.”

  “I have not the men to spare.”

  “Boys, then. Boys love sheep. Our shepherds will teach any three of your boys how to properly care for sheep and keep them from grazing too long in one spot.”

  “Sheep have much magic in their bones, do they not? Is that where your magician gets so much of his power? From sheep?”

  “I do not know the source of Shoogar’s power,” I said. “But you are right that sheep are powerful.”

  Then what guarantee do we have that you will not use that power against us?”

  “Your village is not without its strength. What guarantee do we have that you will not use your power against us?”

  “You have your magician,” he said.

  “And you have yours,” I countered.

  “Yes, there is that,” he said.

  There was silence for a moment.

  “We must decide what they are going to do — before they decide for themselves,” I said. “A feud between them would not augur well for either of our clans.”

  “Yes,�
� he nodded. “It would tear the two villages apart.”

  “And much of the surrounding countryside too.” I added.

  He looked startled.

  “I have already spoken to Shoogar,” I said quickly, “and I know that he is not planning to attack Purple — that is, not without sufficient provocation. I have convinced Shoogar that it is important enough for us to settle here for him to swear a truce with Purple. In return, of course, he — and all of us — would like some guarantees from Purple.”

  “Well,” said Gortik, “I cannot speak for Purple. No one speaks for Purple but Purple. To tell the truth, I do not like the idea of having two hostile magicians in the same village — but just as much, I do not like the idea of having even one magician in this village — one particular magician, that is. There is little love between myself and Purple. Dorthi and I were good friends. Dorthi’s strength supported me as Speaker; but since Purple has replaced him, he has done nothing.”

  “H’m,” I said thoughtfully, “is it not said that a land with two magicians will soon have only one.”

  He nodded. “There is only so much magic in an area — enough for one magician, not for two. It is inevitable that one of them will die.”

  “I know. Shoogar has thought long on that.”

  “So have I. If we have our magicians swear a truce, it will be a very artificial situation. It cannot last long.”

  I nodded. He was right, of course. “But perhaps it will at least buy us time until the oceans again recede.”

  “Ah, but then what? You want a permanent village site. I want a permanent magician.”

  “Purple is planning to leave you?”

  “He has been talking that way ever since he first fell into our midst. At the moment he is forced by circumstance to stay — like you — but if that were not the case, there are many in this village who would be happy to speed him on his way.”

  “Are you suggesting that you would like to see Purple re-moved?” I asked.

  “Of course I wouldn’t suggest such a thing,” he replied. “A Speaker must never question his magician. But — if a duel were to occur between our two warlocks, I would not be disappointed if Purple lost”