Analog SFF, January-February 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

“Bless you. Right now, the bath draws me more than the room itself. Thus, I intend to draw it straightaway. Lead on, good host!"

  * * * *

  One advantage of Rishi's Inn was that directly across the wide cobbled street stood Bodhi, unquestionably the city's finest tavern, owned and operated by Aditi Chandrasekar, a quiet, self-contained little woman.

  After ablutions, stuffing a few coppers in his pockets, a quick meal, and unnecessarily reminding Murigum that a magician's room, in the absence of said magician, was an unwise place for a cleaning person to attend, Vincas hurried across the way, hoping his peers would have reserved his favorite chair.

  Bodhi's house mage, Trun, whose mirage-ware rivaled that of Takata Hai, had outdone herself. Silver mist hung in the air, just enough to soften faces and provide a sense of privacy at each table. A dozen glowing rings, expanded models of the Golden Torus, floated an inch below the ceiling. Also, three massive chandeliers, inverted candelabras, provided further illumination—candles and flames pointed straight down while all drips ran upwards. Vincas supposed the rings were actually common houseflies hovering in circular formations and the candles either fireflies or those glowlizards locally called “drakes."

  Five of the world's greatest sorcerers plus a man in scholarly robes occupied an octagonal table beneath the largest chandelier. Vincas hurried over and was pleased to find his usual chair was indeed available. Mage Mokshananda, a heavily bearded man so rich in power he reputedly glowed in the dark, was the first to notice the old man approaching. He smiled at Vincas, stood, and courteously pulled the empty chair out far enough.

  Vincas thanked the mage as he sat, but trained his eyes on the scholar: a short, thick-bodied fellow whose skull was more tufted than thatched with curly brown hair. A Star of David dangled beneath each long earlobe.

  Marie Ginnetti, First Witch of Westmorland, handled the only necessary introduction. “Lovely to see you again, Vin. May I present Shlomo Levi, who has journeyed from far Zo-har in New Israel to join us? Shlomo, this splendid old wreck is none other than the renowned Vincas Apollo Magus."

  Levi's eyes sparkled. “Even in my distant country, we revere you, Master. Your brilliant treatise, ‘How Many Imps Can Sulk On A Pin's End and Other Questions of Magical Topology’ is required reading in my Order. A vast honor to meet you!"

  Vincas regarded the Israeli with respect and some concern. Rumors had been flying for years that the legendary Jewish sage, Moshe Abram, had unearthed some new and particularly potent magical lore. Vincas might be facing an unexpected challenge in the Contest....

  Despite these misgivings, the old man reached across the table to follow the New Israeli custom of shaking hands. “I am likewise honored, Adon Levi!” he said as Levi's palm met his. “Or is ‘mister’ the proper honorific?"

  Levi's eyes widened. “You have a discerning intuition, Master! I am indeed a transplanted Aumaurakan, born and raised out west in Twosuns."

  Vincas sat back. “You overly flatter my intuition. I merely detected a slight Arid-zone accent. You're here as a Contest participant?"

  “Yes, but not as a contender."

  “No? From what I've heard, victory might sprout from the Tree of Life."

  The Israeli smiled but shrugged with one shoulder. “I, too, have heard claims that Qabalistic techniques can be used to leverage extra power from macro-imps. But truly, Master, I wouldn't know one qlippah from another. I'm actually here to reveal some new and astonishing discoveries by my Order, the Scientific Essenes."

  “In that case,” Vincas said, “I look forward to your presentation and to our continued conversation. Now, if you will permit me, I should greet my old friends."

  The old man's smile flashed around the table. Marie Ginnetti and Mokshananda smiled back, but Mullah Nur, Han Pengyew, and Glin Tan only bowed their heads. Glin Tan's peculiar eyes, green as waxed limes, seemed to glisten with private amusement.

  The owner herself, Aditi Chandrasekar, came over and took Vincas's request for tea and then rushed away without displaying haste.

  Ginnetti brushed back her thick locks, still more auburn than gray. “You appear hale, dear."

  Vincas waggled an eyebrow. “Only in a nurturing ether such as this and in company such as yours."

  The sorceress blushed, her dimples deepened. “Why then should you ever leave supportive environments and company you might find ... inspiring?"

  “Ha! Our mutual friend Kirstunu recently asked me that exact question. In truth, my heirs exert a charm that surpasses any of mine."

  The American-Israeli leaned forward. “Kirstunu, you say? A lesser wizard of that name has studied with my Order for three winters now. Perhaps the same man?"

  “Tall fellow? Face shaped like a ship's prow?” Vincas asked.

  “Just so, Master."

  “Remarkable! What does he study?"

  “Computers and Ancient computer networks."

  “Oh? What then is a computer?"

  Levi grinned slyly. “You will all find out tomorrow."

  “Last year,” Mullah Nur interjected in his soft voice, “our friend Kirstunu replaced my personal supply of coffee beans with small wasps. They made,” he added after a moment, “an inferior brew."

  A far deeper voice, startling the entire group, suddenly boomed from directly behind Vincas's chair. “I trust you will not be suffering such mischief this year, Mullah."

  Lama Go was enveloped in saffron robes; the orange cape of his office hung from his massive shoulders. His vast round face evoked that of a shaved panda and his thick hands appeared capable of crushing iron pipes.

  “I also trust,” he continued darkly, “you did not encounter that fool Kirstunu within this city, Vincas Magus."

  The old man shaded his eyes as though trying to see something distant. “When last I encountered him, he was traveling toward Wholly Oak on pogo skinks."

  “Good! And good, um, evening to you all,” said the lama, cape rustling faintly as he departed.

  Vincas pondered Kirstunu's oddities until Glin Tan raised one pale hand and the illusion of a blue flower bloomed from one fingertip. “Do not,” advised the subtle wizard when he had everyone's attention, “provoke the Contest-master in any fashion, fellow mages. He chafes under the wool tunic of responsibility."

  “Your advice is as sound as ever,” emaciated Han Pengyew remarked with his usual ambiguity. “But the hour is late and since I require much rest before tomorrow's efforts, I bid you all a refreshing night."

  Shortly, everyone save Vincas and Marie Ginnetti made excuses and departed. Out of courtesy to the establishment, the two party survivors shifted locale to a small corner table, ordered fine white tea, and talked quietly for hours. Vincas asked Marie if Glin Tan had given his traditional private preview of his latest Contest entry. She had heard he'd done so, but the only person she knew who'd been invited had been, oddly, none other than Kirstunu and he, with uncharacteristic restraint, had refused to even hint at Tan's secrets.

  Vincas then revealed his fear that if Panx became any more obstinate, he'd be out of the magic business entirely. Marie observed that many senior mages she knew had been complaining similarly.

  When she decided to retire for the night, Vincas insisted on paying for the tea. Hardly a curse, an overfilled purse, he thought. But he wondered why one copper felt so much warmer than the others. And as he passed by the central octagonal table, he noticed that some of the candles overhead now had visible lizard legs. Strange, he thought, that Trun's illusions were wearing thin already....

  It was a night for such oddness. The embedded rainbow flashes in the walls and roof of Rishi's Inn appeared subdued on his return, which he dismissed as a byproduct of night, moonlight, and staying up past his proper bedtime. But upon entering the lobby, he found Takata Hai, the mirage-master himself, in tensely whispered discourse with Murigum, who'd exchanged his innkeeper's caftan for a once-white bathrobe. Murigum bowed gravely to both sorcerers, seated himself behind his desk, and occupied hims
elf with bookkeeping.

  “Vincas!” Takata called softly. “Glad I am to see you. I need your acumen."

  “My meager reservoir of intellect is yours to command. Allow me to express my admiration for the veneers you have applied for this year's Contest."

  “Then I hope you will enjoy them while you can. Your praise warms me, Magus, but my spells are eroding prematurely. This is my problem."

  “How unusual! All your fine work; you must be dreadfully upset. Have you determined a cause?"

  The younger man shook his head. “I remain baffled. While my small talents provide me adequate income, they are inept as analytical tools."

  “I see.” The mention of income reminded Vincas of the hot copper and he suffered a terrible thought. “Is the erosion you detect citywide, Takata-san, or limited to any specific locale?"

  “To my best knowledge, the epicenter is right here, but the effect appears to be spreading."

  The old man frowned and turned toward the innkeeper. “Good Murigum,” he said, “I dislike troubling you when you are busy, but could you answer a question?"

  “Anything, Master!"

  “Do you retain any of the coins I gave you earlier?"

  The innkeeper froze for a moment, then consulted one tally sheet from the pile of lizardskins before him. “Most unlikely, Master. This evening, I supplied change for ten suns, twelve moons, forty silvers, and seven gold pieces. Also, I paid my staff their wages early so they could better enjoy tomorrow's festivities."

  “Most considerate of you."

  “Do you require change from your deposit after all?"

  “Certainly not.” Murigum's face expressed such relief that Vincas had to cough to hide his chuckle. “I merely had in mind a modest experiment."

  Takata touched Vincas's sleeve. “You have a theory, Magus?"

  “Nothing so definite, old friend, but I'd prefer to rule out one possible explanation."

  Takata was too polite to prod, but his eyes asked the question for him.

  “A small chance exists,” Vincas admitted, “that we may all be victims of a most elaborate prank. You both know Kirstunu and his reputation; who else would've named their imp as a homonym for ‘jokes'? I am awash in coinage because the man recently repaid an old debt. That is, he claimed an old debt required repayment—I do not recall the original loan."

  Takata paled. “You suspect Kirstunu's coins embody ... spells to target my mirages? How could inert objects carry such potent commands?"

  “I've no idea. For that matter, how is it possible to emplace mirage on inanimate objects such as buildings or living animals and insects? All other illusions I know of proceed directly from jin to jin."

  “This question has often puzzled me; but in execution, my art is simple enough."

  “In any case, I cherish no suspicions one way or the next. But testing the money in my purse seems prudent. To be thorough, I also wished to test such a coin that has passed beyond my ownership."

  “If Kirstunu's currency is to blame, how can we abate the menace? Coins are in free circulation and who is to say Kirstunu's ... infection might not spread from one copper to another?"

  Vincas tugged on his beard. “Takata-san, I've promised myself to make every effort for this season's Torus. The task is daunting. Glin Tan exudes sly confidence, Marie Ginnetti crackles with energy, we have a Hebrew visitor of unknown attributes, and Mokshananda's humility this year seems almost excessive...."

  “What are you saying?"

  “I am uncertain to what degree I dare expend my limited resources on your problem. My deepest apologies, dear friend, but if the coins do no more than dim your lovely decorations, that will not spoil the Contest. But you needn't look so forlorn! I would truly prefer nothing whatsoever taint the festivities. Leave me to my testing and if the results are meaningful, I will let my conscience dictate the next step. Perhaps the carrier of a blight, however unknowing, should shoulder some responsibility for curing it."

  “I beg you, Magus! Do what you can and I will seek endlessly to uncover a way to repay your kindness."

  Vincas raised a finger and shook it humorously. “Repayment would be redundant as we would all share any benefits accrued. Consider any efforts of mine a gift to our joint celebration. With your permission, I will now hasten to my room. I have an ethical conflict to resolve before I can even begin."

  Sitting on the carpet in his suite—a silk mandala in blue, teal, brown, and ivory—the contents of his traveling bag spread out before him, Vincas took three slow breaths and set out to circumvent his dilemma. He'd promised to leave Panx alone until tomorrow and intended to honor that promise, particularly since he wouldn't shine in the Contest without Panx's aid. On another hand, he needed micro-imp senses to evaluate the coins. And on a third hand, a hand only existing due to the proximity of a macro-imp, he might be able to access certain micro-imp senses without invoking the imp. After all, Panx was essentially part of his jin, albeit its controlling node. And the jin, an integration of extended nervous system and extended musculature, was part of Vincas's body. All he needed was some external intercession....

  Eyes closed, he could see Pagman's presence as a warm glow to the southwest. He reached towards it with his imagination—and a cold, familiar voice interrupted.

  Good morning or later, Magician.Bathed as we are in manna, I assume we visit Plest, Haven, Westmorland, or Zun-Loo?

  “My apologies, Panx. I did not mean to intrude."

  You do not intrude.I extrude.Is it Plest?

  Vincas was disoriented. The micro-imp had displayed neither affability nor humor for the last five years. “We are,” he admitted, “presently housed in Zun-Loo."

  So!Then you are re-entering the Contest this year?

  “Tomorrow, assuming you and I can reach an understanding. Meanwhile, it is evening and the city appears to be under magical attack."

  A brief pause. I taste no attack.

  “Its consequences are subtle. Mage Hai's adornments for the occasion are denaturing unexpectedly. My suspicions focus on some coins supplied to me by Kirstunu, whom you may remember."

  Well do I recall his imp-plant, Juax.The man himself has left little impression on me.

  Vincas frowned. “In any case, I was about to enlist Pagman's aid in evaluating my remaining coins."

  Unnecessary!The ambient energies have rendered me buoyant and I yearn to express my powers.Fetch these coins and share with me your eyesight for but a moment.Then I shall tell you all you should know.

  The mage complied despite his doubts. Gripping enough coppers to virtually guarantee Kirstunu had supplied at least one, he performed the relaxation allowing Panx temporary use of his vision. As usual under these circumstances, his blink reflex ceased and his eyes soon felt dry and stiff.

  Panx took what seemed an undue amount of time before announcing the verdict: Behold.Flowing money is the lifeblood of human cities.Pretty things, these disks, but they carry nothing but buying power, dirt, biological residues, and germs.

  “You are certain?"

  Always.And fear not; I shall be pleased to assist you tomorrow.We shall put forward our finest efforts as of old!

  Vincas slowly refilled his traveling bag with everything save nightclothes and toiletries, making sure Kirstunu hadn't slipped anything but money in with his belongings. He found nothing unexpected, which didn't ease his mind. In fact, despite the imp's certification, his suspicion of the coins had grown. Still, since Panx had volunteered unstinting aid, Vincas didn't dare voice any doubts.

  I hate to disappoint Takata, he thought, but my desire to please little Alinda exceeds my passion to cure Zun-Loo's ills. And the Contest far outstrips its trappings. Afterwards, perhaps I shall organize a joint effort to set matters right.

  Having made his decision, he readied himself for sleep, which came slowly and brought a disturbing experience. In a dream, he was admiring an aquarium occupied by small crabs, delicate fronds of seaweed, and miniature mermaids. Then the tank sudden
ly expanded and he found himself inside, standing on its sandy floor. With his ears submerged, he could hear mermaids singing sweetly to each other; but the crabs, who now had human faces, were also vocalizing, polluting the water with endless demands and complaints. Eager to add his small voice to the mermaids’ glorious melody and help drown out the selfish cacophony, he tried to inhale but his mouth filled with brine. Panicking, he struck out for the surface. And crab claws kept pulling him down....

  What, he wondered as he woke panting, was that all about? Does some hidden part of me feel suffocated and trapped? Having couched the question in those terms, he was forced to admit the obvious: it hadn't been his dream.

  * * * *

  He greeted the dawn with tight muscles and a troubled conscience.

  After ablutions, Bagua Xun Dao breathing and stretching exercises, and some concentration warm-ups, he donned his best robes and descended to the lobby, crowded with early risers. The many discussions were muted but the room vibrated with excitement and confusion. Murigum's staff, mostly women, kept coming and going through the kitchen doors, distributing wicker picnic baskets to customers anxious to procure a good seat at the Contest. Savory aromas made the magician's mouth water, but he urged himself to focus on the challenge ahead.

  Murigum had laid out a courtesy breakfast buffet of sweet rolls, fruit, fruit juices, Chinese pastries, soy sausages, steamed maitake and morel mushrooms, goat cheese, coffee and elegant teas, but Vincas only allowed himself a cup of sencha. Hunger would add urgency to his spells. But he slipped a peach into his bag against any blood-sugar emergency and slipped himself through the rear door to escape the hubbub.

  Sipping his tea at a bench set outside in the morning light, gazing down the long hillside at a fruit-of-plenty orchard behind the inn, he was a bit surprised when Murigum's youngest son, Arjun, appeared before him and bowed. By tradition, no one troubled a performing mage before the Contest.

  “Would you enjoy a richer beverage, Master? Or a pastry?” the boy asked. He was dark-skinned and thin, with features similar to Murigum's but more delicate.

  “I am satisfied with the brew I hold, but thank you for the offer."