Mage Quest woy-3

by C. Dale Brittain

  “I was told,” said the Ifrit, still very softly and as though he had not even heard this remark, “to watch for people from Yurt.”

  “And what were you supposed to do with us when we came?” demanded King Haimeric.

  “I wasn’t supposed to kill you,” said the Ifrit unhappily. “Or at least not right away,” he added, brightening.

  “Then you can’t make my warriors fight to the death,” said the king firmly.

  “I guess not,” said the Ifrit glumly. “You, little warriors there! Stop killing each other.”

  Both Hugo and Ascelin collapsed where they stood, dropping their shields and swords and reaching up for their helmets with trembling fingers.

  “How did the king do that?” I said to the chaplain as we rushed toward them. “I couldn’t have changed the Ifrit’s mind even if I had all my magical abilities. Maybe I’ve been using magic as a crutch all these years.”

  Joachim gave me what might have been a smile. “If so then I’ve been using religion the same way. Each of us has to use the abilities we are given, and Haimeric is a king and born to command.”

  Dominic and I helped the fighters remove their armor, and Joachim found the bandages and Ascelin’s salves. The two were bruised all over and nicked and bleeding on the parts of their bodies not protected by mail. None of the cuts were deep, but there were enough that I thought they both would have an impressive collection of scars-that is, if they lived long enough for the cuts to heal. Hugo fell asleep while we were still bandaging him.

  “Christ,” said Ascelin, his head between his knees. “That kid’s good. Why wouldn’t he let me kill him cleanly?”

  “Be glad he wouldn’t,” said Dominic. “At least you’re both still alive-for the moment. Stop twitching and let me get this bandage tight.”

  “I remember now,” said the Ifrit slowly. “You people of Yurt have a secret. I’m supposed to make you tell me. Or maybe you’re supposed to give something to me.”

  “What kind of secret?” the king asked.

  “That’s what I’m asking you!”

  It was hard enough trying to deal with an unpredictable and enormously powerful magical being without dealing with a stupid one as well. “If you let me have my magical powers back,” I called up, “I think I could tell you.”

  The Ifrit lowered the king abruptly to the ground, where Dominic caught him, and lifted me up instead. “Tell me first,” he said avidly.

  I looked into his terrifying huge eyes, weighing my words carefully. If the Ifrit wasn’t supposed to kill us, it was certainly because Kaz-alrhun-or even some other powerful mage-thought we had a secret and wanted it. Once we gave up that secret, there would be no reason to keep us alive. My only hope was to satisfy the Ifrit for the moment. Then maybe we could find some way to escape-perhaps while he was asleep-before whoever had the power to master an Ifrit arrived to tell him he could kill us at his leisure.

  In the meantime, it again seemed that everyone else knew something about Yurt that we did not.

  “So what’s the secret?” asked the Ifrit eagerly.

  Since I had no idea what the real secret was, I had to stall him with something plausible. “It’s this ring,” I said, showing him the onyx. “See, it’s even carved with the word Yurt.”

  “I can’t read,” said the Ifrit, frowning. “That other mage also wanted me to read.”

  “Your wife will read it for you,” I suggested.

  The Ifrit smiled at this, showing his enormous yellow teeth. “I’m sure she’d enjoy meeting you all.”

  Again the earth turned under us, and what seemed a dozen suns raced across the valley’s sky. When the whirling sand had again settled, the Ifrit’s wife stood in the middle of our confused group.

  “Do you think you have enough food for our guests, my dear?” asked the Ifrit.

  It took a while to introduce everyone, to try to explain to the scandalized king exactly how this nearly-naked woman could be called the Ifrit’s wife. By the time that she had assured the Ifrit that the onyx ring was indeed carved with the name of the kingdom of Yurt, the noon sun had passed over, and I had been able to come up with a plan that might-maybe-work.

  “Now, I can’t perform the magic spell attached to this ring as long as you won’t let me have my abilities back,” I said, neglecting to mention I still had no idea what kind of spell it was. “But I can tell you what you can do with your own magical powers. Try a fairly generalized spell, one that will put any sort of nearly-complete spell into action.”

  To my surprise, the Ifrit frowned. “I’ve never been very good at spells.”

  “But how do you work magic?” I demanded, shocked.

  “I don’t know, I guess I just do it,” he said as though embarrassed.

  I looked at his lowered green head and considered this. As a magical creature, perhaps even an immortal one, he did not need to learn the Hidden Language as did humans. Western magic had been channeled and rationalized by generations of wizards, but magic here, as I already knew, was far less focused. Magic for the Ifrit must be more like breathing than thinking.

  “All right,” I said. “Don’t worry about doing any spells of your own if it seems too complicated. Just look at this ring”-I didn’t dare give it to him for fear it would be so tiny in his hand that he would lose it-”and command it by whatever magic comes to you naturally to work its spell.”

  The Ifrit raised his eyes to me and gave me a terrible glance. He might be stupid, but I could not let myself forget for a second how dangerous he was. “You don’t need to patronize me, little mage,” he said coldly.

  He grabbed my hand, ring and all, and pulled it up to eye level, the rest of me dangling painfully. He muttered syllables that might have been the Hidden Language-if I could still recognize it. The onyx ring trembled on my finger and buzzed.

  His lips parted in a grin of triumph. “All right, ring of Yurt, let’s see what your secret is.”

  The air around us began to tremble and glitter, as though again we were about to be shaken off a tablecloth, but this time the earth stayed still. But as I looked around wildly the empty valley near us began to fill up: first another oasis, a short distance away; then a tangle of flowering bushes; then a rocky watercourse cutting across the valley floor; then a rider on an enormous black steed; then briefly a collection of baggage wagons; and suddenly, and just for a few seconds, a small group of men in the middle distance.

  The Ifrit gave a roar and shook me and the ring violently, and the empty valley resumed its calm existence. But in those few seconds I thought I saw that one of the group of men, beneath his desert headdress, had red hair.

  “Mirage,” I said aloud as the Ifrit dumped me unceremoniously back on the ground. “It’s a ring that creates mirages.”

  “Or lets you see things I do not want you to see,” said the Ifrit grumpily. “I should kill you right now for seeing them.”

  I sat up, rubbing an elbow. Prince Vlad in the eastern kingdoms had told me he had put a special spell on the ruby ring, a spell we would need in the Wadi Harhammi. When Elerius set out to make a substitute magic ring for Arnulf, he must have chosen a spell that would reveal that which was magically hidden-as images reflected from the desert sky revealed cities and lakes far ahead in mirages. I could tell from its effects that it was a good spell, one I could not have duplicated even if I had my magic and my books. If the Wadi Harhammi still kept its secrets after fifty years, and if Kaz-alrhun was trying to get in, it was exactly the sort of ring he would want.

  This explained, then, why Kaz-alrhun had not pursued us from Xantium. He knew exactly where we were going and thought he might play with us by letting us think we had gotten away. But we, with his onyx ring, would arrive just as surely at the Wadi, where the Ifrit would watch over us until the mage arrived.

  But was the red-haired man I had glimpsed really Evrard, and if so, who was the rider on the black horse? “Did you capture some other travelers in the valley recently?” I asked casuall
y.

  “I don’t think this is a very interesting secret,” said the Ifrit, scowling at the ring and not answering my question.

  “Have you seen someone on a flying horse?” I tried again.

  This got the Ifrit’s attention. “The person on the flying horse was not very amusing,” he said.

  Then if the man on the black horse was real, then the other group was also real, which might mean that Sir Hugo’s party was right here in the valley with us, even though hidden by the Ifrit’s magic.

  I glanced toward Hugo. He was trying to sit up enough to eat. The Ifrit’s wife seemed taken with him and bustled around, offering him choice tidbits of fruit. But in the meantime I didn’t dare say anything to him about his father; he had had his hopes raised too often already.

  It could have been either Arnulf or King Warin with the ebony horse, come to try to find the secret of the Wadi Harhammi but caught by the Ifrit before he could fly away again. If it was King Warin, I abruptly found myself hoping the Ifrit would protect us from him.

  It was ironic, I thought wryly, to be seeking safety in an unpredictable creature who had planned to kill us-and still might.

  “This is just the first part of the secret, Ifrit,” I said. “So far I’ve proved to you that I’m not bluffing. But the man who commanded you to capture us might not want even you to know the rest, at least not yet, so I’d better wait until he comes. In the meantime, you promised to let me have my magical powers back.”

  He had in fact promised nothing of the sort, but he did not contradict me. “They’re probably around here someplace,” he muttered.

  He said nothing more, only set me down on the ground again. But slowly at first, like the first trickle of water in a dry stream bed, then more and more rapidly, I could feel knowledge of the Hidden Language coming back. It was as though blinders had been removed from my eyes and plugs from my ears. The world around me seemed much more real, much more visible and intense, when I could experience it with magic as well as normal human senses.

  Even knowing we would all be dead shortly, I felt filled with unbounded delight. I was so grateful to the Ifrit for restoring my abilities, even though he had taken them away originally, that I could have kissed his stubbly cheek.

  But I knew even more intensely than I had already guessed that my own knowledge of magic was trivial and indeed useless for combating the Ifrit.

  “Thank you!” I called up to him with my best smile. My mind seemed suddenly to be working much more clearly. “Could you tell me a little more about the man who commanded you to watch for us? I want to be ready when he comes.”

  The Ifrit frowned. “I am furious with him,” he said after a moment. I didn’t know if this was good or bad. “He was the mage who first freed me from Solomon’s spell.”

  Kaz-alrhun, I thought. “And why are you furious with him?” I prompted.

  “I granted his first wish, but he then betrayed me,” said the Ifrit grumpily. “I let him have two wishes for letting me out of the bottle, of course, although he made me agree to come grant them whenever he called, wherever he might be. He finally called for his first wish last year, ordering me to guard this valley and keep my captives alive, especially people from Yurt.”

  Everyone in the East except us, I was now convinced, knew something special about Yurt.

  “But one of the people from Yurt put me back into the bottle,” continued the Ifrit.

  For a second I had a nightmare sense that either I had met this Ifrit before without remembering it, or there was some other kingdom of Yurt somewhere that I ought to know about.

  “The mage must have given him the bottle on purpose,” added the Ifrit with wounded dignity. “Therefore I do not think I will answer when he summons me a second time.”

  I looked up at the Ifrit’s furrowed brow. “In that case,” I said craftily, “if the mage is not coming, and you’re supposed to keep us safe until he does, then you’ll have to keep us alive forever.” As long as we were still alive, I intended to escape well before forever came.

  The Ifrit seated himself slowly on an enormous boulder and thought this over. “But the other man,” he said, “the one who freed me the second time, said I should kill anyone who came to the valley, except for those other people from Yurt.”

  It looked as though the Ifrit had gotten himself into a moral dilemma by granting contradictory wishes to different people. I hoped to find out what had happened someday myself. “In the meantime you have to keep everyone from Yurt alive,” I said firmly.

  I left him trying to work through this and hurried back to the others. It sounded as though someone powerful might still appear at any minute, even if the Ifrit did refuse to grant the mage’s second wish. I was in time to get some of the melon and settled myself again to look at the onyx ring. Now that I knew what kind of spell Elerius had put on it, I might have some chance of unraveling it.

  “I keep thinking about that boy and my stallion,” said Dominic, sitting down beside me. “Do you think he was simply trying to escape the Ifrit, or was he going to alert someone after having led us into a trap?”

  “It just looked like panicked flight to me,” I said. “I don’t know where he’d go. The emir’s city wouldn’t be safe for him, and it took us many weeks of travel to get here from Xantium.”

  “It wouldn’t take him nearly as long to get back, riding Whirlwind all out, especially if he didn’t detour to the Holy City. I’m beginning to wonder, Wizard, if we should start expecting that mage.”

  “It would certainly take Maffi much longer than two days to reach Xantium,” I said, “even on Whirlwind. And the Ifrit’s just told me he’s not answering any magical calls from the mage.” I stopped speaking abruptly to concentrate more fully at the onyx ring.

  While talking to Dominic, I had been teasing at it delicately with little tendrils of magic. Suddenly I saw the whole spell as clearly as though it had been written out, step-by-step, in a book of wizardry. I could see exactly which words of the Hidden Language Elerius had used, the complicated and quite inventive way he had combined a spell of discovery with a spell of sight, his elegant means of attaching the spell to the onyx so that it was permanently latent in the stone yet would need someone with fairly powerful magic-or at least the right powerful spell-to put it into action.

  I knew at once which words to say, and for a second the valley again flickered with other mirage-like images, even if no one could see them but me.

  But this was wrong. I had never been able to visualize a spell like this in my life, even my own. I knew I wasn’t this good. In fact, I didn’t think anyone was.

  I looked up, startled, toward the Ifrit. Had he given me his magical abilities instead of my own?

  No, because with this strange clarity I now had, it was quite plain that I had nothing more than the mix of school magic, herbal magic, and improvisation I had always had, and the Ifrit had his own enormous fund of powerful though unfocused magic. But the difference now was my ability to recognize a spell and all its attributes.

  “I think I see the difference at last,” I said excitedly to Dominic, who didn’t have the slightest idea what I was talking about. “Wes tern magic is organized scientifically. There’s very little scientific about eastern magic. That’s why Melecherius had so much trouble explaining it, even if he understood it himself. Instead it’s an art.”

  “Do you and this scientific art know how to get us out of here?” asked Dominic.

  “I’m working on it,” I said. If this clarity only lasted, I should be able to discover the spell on Dominic’s ruby ring as well. Maybe if the Ifrit wanted to take a nap, and he took his wife off with him somewhere while he did so, then I could try to use the onyx to locate Sir Hugo’s party, and we could-

  “What’s that?” said Dominic sharply.

  I looked up quickly, putting together far more easily than I ever had before a scientific far-seeing spell.

  It was a flying carpet, soaring over the steep edge of the vall
ey and approaching us rapidly. Seated on it were Maffi and the massive black bulk of Kaz-alrhun.

  PART EIGHT — THE WADI HARHAMMI

  I

  I wrapped my magic firmly around me and stood up to meet Kaz-alrhun. He hopped off the carpet as soon as it had set down gracefully on the sandy soil. “If you are here to gloat over us,” I said with dignity, “and to watch your Ifrit kill us, you might at least let us know first why everyone in the East seems to find the mention of Yurt so exciting.”

  But he ignored me. “Ifrit!” he shouted. “In the name of God, the all-compassionate, I adjure you not to harm the tiniest hair on the heads of these people!”

  My suppositions shifted wildly, but I had nothing with which to replace them. I had steeled myself to face a mage who was about to order the Ifrit to kill us, and instead he had just commanded the Ifrit to spare us.

  An enormous bare foot was suddenly between Kaz-alrhun and me as the Ifrit stepped forward. He picked up the mage to peer at him. “They do have rather tiny hairs,” he agreed, running a clawed hand through his own thick locks. His voice was about ten octaves lower than the mage’s. “But I am guarding this valley, and they came tumbling in. So did you, for that matter. Are you from Yurt?”

  “Do you want me to bind you by the name of the Most High, as King Solomon once bound you?” Kaz-alrhun demanded. He was putting a paralysis spell together, one which I would never have been able to duplicate, full of eastern tricks and connections unlike anything I’d ever seen before but which I could observe as clearly now as though it were a picture before my eyes. I wasn’t sure it really would bind an Ifrit, but it looked as though it had greater potential than anything of mine.

  “All right,” replied the Ifrit sulkily. He bent to put the mage back down on the ground. “I wasn’t going to make them die an evil death anyway, or at least not yet.”

  I expected Kaz-alrhun to accept this agreement, but he abruptly smiled, flashing a gold tooth, and threw his paralysis spell onto the Ifrit. With a stunned and rather puzzled look, the Ifrit subsided onto the sand, as majestically and inexorably as a piece of a mountain breaking free and tumbling toward the valley. His hand opened, and the mage hopped out.