The Flying Sorcerers

by David Gerrold

  “He lives in the north country? I thought he lived on the other side of the sky.”

  “No — he has to go to the north country to get to the other side of the sky.”

  “Lant, you’re talking in circles again. The north country is not the other side of the sky — it’s not even anywhere near it. I ought to know; Dorthi and I trained there.”

  “The north country is not his destination,” I explained. “But he has to go there to call down his mother-egg.”

  “Mother-egg? You mean he has another one?”

  “Apparently so — at least that’s what he says.”

  “pfah!” said Shoogar. He didn’t believe it.

  “He showed me a spell device — it’s attached to his belt. It’s a calling thing, but he can’t use it here because his mother-egg isn’t in this sky, it’s in the northern sky. So he has to go to the north country to use it. For that he needs a flying machine.”

  “H’m,” said Shoogar. “And what happens to the machine afterward?”

  “After what?”

  “After he leaves in it”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he will leave it in the north country — after all, once he calls down his mother-egg, he won’t need it any more.”

  “H’m,” said Shoogar again.

  “You could probably have it for the taking,” I suggested.

  “Pfah! You’re not thinking, Lant. If I wanted it, I would have to go north to get it. Or go there with Purple in order to bring it back. No, I don’t like the idea.”

  “But if he builds a flying machine, obviously he will need help. You and Wilville and Orbur can help him — and if you can build one flying machine for him, you should certainly be able to build another for yourself.”

  “H’m,” said Shoogar for a third time. His eyes lit up as he considered the possibilities. In fact, his whole face took on that same peculiar expression that I had seen on Purple’s when he had been thinking of flying machines.

  “Then it is decided?” I asked.

  He fingered the lenses on the string around his neck. To co-operate with him on the flying machine means first securing an oath of peace, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “And that means giving up my trophy, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded again.

  “Um,” he said. He continued to finger the lenses.

  “But a flying machine, Shoogar!” I suggested softly. “Think of it! A flying machine!”

  “Umm,” he said. He was thinking of it.

  “And there will be no other magician in this region either, after Purple leaves,” I whispered. “Certainly not one who could compare with you. You will be without equal — you can be the magician of both the upper and lower villages.”

  “Ummm,” said Shoogar.

  “And think about this,” I added slowly. “You will be able to accomplish all of this without a duel!”

  “No, Lant — then I cannot do it.”

  “Huh?!!”

  “Not without a duel — if I am truly to earn my position here, then I must demonstrate that I am a better magician than Purple. I must best him in a duel.”

  “Erk,” I said. I had talked myself out of a peaceful solution. “Uh, well, uh —”

  He shook his head firmly. “I’m sorry, Lant, but you know how things are — a duel between two magicians in the same region is not only necessary, but proper.”

  “Uh, but, Shoogar,” I said quickly, “you have already bested him in a duel.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve only inconvenienced him by destroying his black egg. The duel is still to be fought.”

  “But you said you wouldn’t duel him right away —”

  “No, I didn’t. I only said I wouldn’t duel him without talking it over with you first. I’m talking it over with you now.”

  I felt like I was drowning. “But the flying machine —”

  “The duel,” he insisted.

  “But — but —” I stammered helplessly, but it was hopeless. When Shoogar made up his mind, he was a solid lump of stubbornness. “All right. Shoogar, I know when I am defeated. If you must, you must. I will go and warn the villagers.”

  “You do that, Lant — but tell them not to be too alarmed.

  “Why?” I asked bitterly. “Are you planning to minimize the side effects again?”

  “No,” he said. “But there is no reason that the duel must be held today. We might build a flying machine first.”

  My heart leapt. “Then you’ll do it! You’ll co-operate with Purple?”

  “Of course not. I am merely going to let him show me how to build a flying machine — if he can,” Shoogar said.

  I relaxed.

  “After he finishes,” he added, “then I’ll kill him.

  The blue sun was at one side of the sky; the red sun was at the other. The world was bathed in red and blue light; shadows stretched in two directions. We waited in the meadow below the heights. All was still.

  This would be the first meeting of the two magicians — would they be able to live up to their truce?

  Purple, fat and paunchy, was already waddling up the slope, escorted by Gortik and his advisors. He was a bright figure in his suit of strange cloth. He paused and squinted up the hill.

  I looked too. Shoogar was stumping imperiously toward us, magnificent in his shortness.

  Shoogar caught sight of Purple then, and stopped. The two of them surveyed each other, one up the hill, one down. For a moment, all was still and silent. I held my breath and prayed.

  And then Shoogar took a step forward, another. Purple did likewise. I exhaled loudly in relief; the two magicians carefully closed the remaining distance. They ended up facing each other, one standing to either side of me; Gortik was standing opposite my position, also between the two magicians. As Speakers for our villages, we had thought it best to place ourselves so. If the magicians should attack each other, we would be there to stop them (I hoped). If we couldn’t stop them. … Well, I would be in no position to worry about it.

  Shoogar and Purple eyed each other warily, Shoogar looking Purple up and down. Purple only looking down.

  “The oath,” I prompted.

  “Him first,” they both said, pointing in unison.

  “Both together!” Gortik and I cried.

  Reluctantly, Shoogar and Purple reached out and took each other’s right hand; then they joined left hands too. Now neither could reach his spellcasting equipment without first letting go, which would allow the other to reach for his. They glared at each other across their linked arms.

  I looked at Gortik and nodded. He nodded back. Simultaneously, we each turned to our respective wizard and snipped off a lock of his hair, two fingernail clippings, and took a droplet of blood and a nasal dropping.

  While the two magicians watched, we mixed these ingredients together in a bowl between them, then separated the result into two equal portions which we put into spell bags, one for Shoogar one for Purple.

  “Here. Now neither will be able to cast a spell on the other without also affecting himself. Any harm that befalls one will befall the other, so it will be for the benefit of both to watch out for each other’s welfare.”

  They continued to scowl.

  “Repeat after me,” I said, “in unison, so that your oaths will be taken as one: “I (state your full name, including the secret syllables) do solemnly swear …”

  “Do solemnly swear …”

  “To love, honor and cherish …”

  “To love, honor and cherish …”

  “My brother magician as myself.”

  “My brother magician as myself.”

  I turned to Shoogar. “Do you, Shoogar, agree to uphold the terms of this oath?” His eyes were fierce.

  After a moment, I repeated, “Do you, Shoogar, agree to uphold the terms of this oath?”

  He muttered something.

  “Louder.” I kicked him.

  “I do!” he snapped.

  Gor
tik leaned forward then and slid a leather-and-hair ring around the third finger of Shoogar’s left hand.

  I turned to Purple. “Do you, Purple, agree to uphold the terms of this oath?”

  He grumbled, “I do.”

  “Fine.” I slipped a ring around his finger. “As long as either of you is on this island, that ring will remind you of your duty as a magician, and your duty to your brother magician. See that you use it well. Now, by the authority vested in me as Speaker for the upper village, and by the authority which each of you has seen fit to grant me by your presence here, and also by the authority which Gortik has given me in allowing me to perform this ceremony, I now pronounce the two of you magicians united in trust!”

  Simultaneously, they let go of each others hands, and leapt apart, glaring angrily. I closed my eyes and waited. There were no explosions, no hissing fireballs.

  I opened my eyes.

  They were still standing there, looking at each other.

  “An auspicious sign,” murmured Gortik. “They haven’t tried to kill each other.”

  “Mm,” I said.

  Purple drew himself up and took a step forward, hand outstretched. “My seeing pieces?” he asked.

  Shoogar slowly lifted them from around his neck. Reluctantly, he handed them over.

  Purple took them reverently, carefully. Hands trembling, he wiped them with a soft cloth and placed them across his face. He squinted around at us, “Lant, Shoogar, Gortik — it’s good to see you. I mean, really see you!” He stepped impulsively forward and clasped Shoogar’s right hand. “Shoogar, thank you, thank you, for taking such care of my seeing pieces!” He was smiling — He actually meant it!

  Shoogar was caught by surprise. He muttered, “You’re welcome,” without even realizing he had. “Now we can build a flying machine?”

  “Yes,” laughed Purple, “now we can build a flying ma-chine!”

  Gortik and I looked at each other. It was a start. If only they didn’t kill each other trying.

  I was beginning to understand what old Thran had meant when he used to say, “A man is not fit to be Speaker until he has first led a flock of goats through a forest of crazyfern.”

  In fact, I was beginning to suspect that the goatherding task might be easier.

  For instance, it appeared that I had to organize the flying machine construction. I appointed Wilville and Orbur as officials aides and instructed them never to leave Purple and Shoogar alone together — not for any reason whatever.

  The boys nodded soberly. They understood all too well, but they were willing to accept the task — they were as eager to build the flying machine as Purple and Shoogar were.

  Now if only the other men of the village would be as willing to accept my leadership.

  I smiled bitterly at the thought. If only the seas were Quaff, we could all get drunk — I might as well wish for a moon to fall out of the sky and carry away all my problems. The way things were going, if the seas were to turn to Quaff, I would find only a bladder with a hole in it.

  Hinc and the others had wanted to stay, then they wanted to migrate, then they wanted to stay — then they found out that staying meant they would have to clear the upperslopes, bind new housetrees, build extra nests and make the area livable — and they wanted to move on again. They wanted to do everything but work.

  To tell the truth though, the woods here were wild — they were a savage tangle of red crabvines and scraggly blackbushes. Broken branches hung everywhere, and stingbee nests were a common sight. Graygauzes hung from almost every branch, and once we found a hollow of nesting vampire kites.

  Everywhere else the woods seemed delightfully tame and well cared for — but here, where we were supposed to settle, here it was as if all the wildness had been stored for the rest of the forest.

  Or perhaps we had not noticed these things until we began to work.

  We all nursed stings and bites. The women were never less than exhausted.

  We men ate badly — sometimes worse than on the trail — and lived in chaos. That the work was tiring was no secret.

  For once even the women were allowed to grumble. The children helped or hindered as suited their whims, and in general had a fine time.

  Shoogar appeared each morning at the rising of the blue sun and blessed the day with a hasty chant: “blessed art Thou, Ouells, father and mother of all the gods, who hast commanded our women to work for us.” Then he disappeared back into his nest to sleep until noon.

  Meanwhile the shepherds had located several excellent pastures on which to graze the sheep. And they were delighted — at first — with the workforce sent up from the lower village. One of the lads was identical twins — so that though he was counted only as one, he did the work of two. In effect we had four novice shepherds to pick the burrs out of the wool and comb the sheep.

  That, of course, freed several of the more experienced novices to work alongside the rest of us in the sloping wood. They appreciated that not at all.

  Life in the sloping wood gradually became more pleasant than wandering across the deserts — that is, once we had housetrees and nest enough for our own needs. Hinc began to talk of weaving again, and began testing various fiber-plants and trees. Jark was daily to be seen testing some new and exotic kind of root or herb as a flavoring for Quaff. Ang, faced by an absence of frogs, changed his vocation and set up fishing rods along the stream. And I —

  Now that I had settled the affairs of two villages and their magicians, I was ready to return to bonemongering.

  Trone the Coppersmith was a dealer in metals and a member of the Guild of Advisors of the Lower Village. He was a broad scowling man who spoke in monosyllables. The hair of his head and torso was brown and coarse. He seemed to regard my wares with disfavor.

  I was at a loss to understand his hostility. At the beginning of our trek I had taken only the most valuable pieces of petrified bone from the ruins of the village. Later, on the trek, I had increased my store from a desert trove, an ancient runforit skeleton, dry and hard as stone. Trone should have been impressed, but he wasn’t.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked him. “Do you fear the competition?”

  “Hah!” he snapped. “Bone is no competition for metal. It is not strong enough. A copper hammer will not break, a bone hammer will.”

  “There are other uses for bone. I can carve out ceremonial bowls and ritual ornaments.”

  “True,” the coppersmith admitted, “but why don’t you discuss this matter with Bellis the Potter — he might have something to say about that.”

  Bellis the Potter. What was a potter?

  I learned that by watching him at work. He took clay from the bottom of the river and worked it into the shapes of bowls. When it dried, it was as hard as any bone though far more brittle. Bellis had worked this into a high art, baking the clay ornaments in the hot sunlight until they would not go soft in the water, and could be used to carry water, soup, stews. He had even learned ways to paint and decorate the bowls and harden them by fire.

  It was possible to make other things as well out of clay. Bellis was considered one of the best workers of his craft in the region. Indeed, he could do things with his clay that I could not do with my bone.

  “But,” I suggested, “you cannot use these devices for rituals and festives. Surely the Gods would be offended by the use of a bowl or ornament without a soul. Only bone has a soul.”

  Bellis was a squat man, short and bent, almost deformed. He looked up at me through wizened eyes. “My father used clay bowls to consecrate the births of all of his children, and my family has used clay bowls for as long as there has been either family or clay to make bowls out of. If there were Gods who would be offended by such use, we would have heard from them by now.”

  Which might account for his twisted shape, I thought. But since I had no wish to quarrel with him, I said only, “But clay has no soul.”

  “All the more reason to use it. You can cast a spell without having to allo
w for or nullify the powers and attitudes latent in your utensils.” Like a bonemonger in my own region, Bellis the Potter understood some rudimentary magic, at least enough to discuss his needs with a magician. “Your trade is outmoded, Lant the Speaker. You will soon find that there is little market for bone here.”

  “Oh, I will always have a trade,” I said. “Shoogar will not easily abandon the old ways — at least, he will always have a need for my craft.”

  “Oh?” said Bellis. “You see that pile of bowls and pots over there? You see this one that I am making now? All of these are for Shoogar. I can make clay bowls faster and easier than you can carve them out of bone, and Shoogar can use them right away. There are no latent influences to neutralize.”

  I felt betrayed. Bellis was right, of course. To a magician at least, the advantages of clay over bone were enormous. And to the average person as well — one need not say a prayer of sorrow if one broke a clay bowl, one need only throw away the pieces — and that was that.

  I knew it instinctively — there was no market for bone here. Probably there never would be, for the best bone is petrified bone and bone would not, could not, petrify here — the climate was too wet. I should have realized it earlier.

  I could understand now why Hinc and the others had wanted to move on. Hinc was a weaver — but there were better weavers here. Jark was a Quaff-maker — but there was such an abundance of fermentable plants here, everybody made their own Quaff or chewed raba-root. And I was a bonemonger — but nobody used bone at all.

  Even though we wanted to move on, we could not do so until the seas receded — and that time was a long way off. And I doubted that anyone would want to migrate then — already many had announced themselves satisfied with their new homes.

  During the dry seasons, Gortik had told me, when the seas were down, this island was actually a peninsula off the main southern continent. We could see the larger mass of it across the swollen channel, some twenty-odd miles away. But for all the good it could do us, it might have been beyond the world’s edge.

  There was just our double village and four others on the island. All were near the shoreline. Every second hand of days, a trading caravan came round bringing the news and goods of the other towns and taking away the news and goods of ours. I soon found out that they had no use for a bonemonger either.