The Cyborg and the Sorcerers

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

"Thank you." Slant leaned back against the pillar and finished his beer; the beverage felt good going down. It occurred to him that it was the first alcohol he'd drunk in four years or more, since an earlier planetfall. He hoped he hadn't lost his tolerance.

  He stayed for one more drink, which he consumed while seated at a table near the arch, giving his feet a rest. When that was gone he rose, thanked the proprietor, and departed. He was dismayed to notice that he was slightly unsteady; either the beer here was far more potent than he had realized, or he was in bad shape physically.

  He told the computer, "The alcohol's affecting me, I think."

  "Affirmative."

  "Can you do something?"

  "Affirmative."

  "Do it, then."

  Something seemed to grab the inside of his chest; he staggered, and leaned against the nearest wall. He could feel his heart pounding, and blood thundered in his ear. He thought for a moment that he would black out. Then it passed, and he stood erect once more.

  "What was that?" he demanded.

  "Standard procedure for removing toxins from cyborg unit bloodstream."

  "Oh." He decided against asking for a detailed description; he could guess well enough that the computer had pumped all the blood in his body through some filter the doctors and technicians had installed.

  He looked about, spotted the sign the barman had sketched for him, and strode up the street; he realized as he did that he felt better than he had in hours. The detoxication process apparently cleared out more than just alcohol and poisons. Either that, or he had been going about half-poisoned without knowing it.

  Chapter Ten

  THE WIZARD'S SHOP WAS SMALL AND CLUTTERED; THE windows were draped with black, and a curtain of red beads hung in the doorway. He stepped inside. The interior was dim and smelled of incense and wax. "Is anyone here?" he called.

  A velvet drapery at the back was pulled aside, and the wizard emerged; he was tall and thin but stooped with age, with a neatly trimmed fringe of white beard around his face and a completely bald head. He wore a simple black robe, very much like those worn in Teyzha. "May I help you?" he inquired politely. "Are you Kurao?"

  "I am."

  "I want to learn about magic."

  "I already have an apprentice; I'm sorry I can't help you." The wizard started to turn away.

  "No, wait, that's not what I mean," Slant said; the mage paused and turned back. "I don't want to become a wizard; I just want to learn something about magic, perhaps a few little tricks."

  Kurao looked him over carefully, but Slant felt no warning tingle and hoped that the old man was relying on his natural perceptions alone. "What for?" he asked at last. "That's my business."

  "What will you pay?"

  "I have gold. It's not local currency, but if s good." "How much?"

  Slant pulled a large coin from his pocket and handed it to the wizard. Kurao looked at it disdainfully. Slant added another.

  The two coins vanished into the wizard's robe somewhere, and Kurao said, "I think that will do for a down-payment; we'll discuss the rest of the money later. What exactly did you want to know?"

  "Is there somewhere more private we could talk?" He gestured toward the open door and the bead curtain.

  "Certainly; follow me." The old man led the way past the velvet drapery to a small back room lit by a skylight and cluttered with the same sort of arcane miscellany as the laboratory Slant had found in Teyzha; the major furnishings were a table, three rough wooden stools, and an immense black metal cauldron hanging from a tripod over a small brazier. The walls were lined with shelves, and table and shelves were crammed with mystical apparatus: skulls, stuffed lizards, jars of powders and potions, carved sticks, polished stones, and other such things. There were very few books, in marked contrast to the Teyzhan equivalent.

  Kurao perched himself atop one of the stools and motioned for Slant to do the same. The cyborg seated himself across the table from the wizard and considered where to begin.

  "What exactly do you want to know?" Kurao asked.

  "I want to know about magic. I'm from far away, where there are no wizards and magic is unknown; I don't understand it at all."

  "Query: Advisability of direct questioning."

  "It's definitely advisable. He thinks I'm a native of this planet, one of his own people, and has no reason not to trust me."

  "Continue action."

  "I scarcely know where to begin," the old man said as Slant and the computer conversed silently. "Magic is basically very simple. Anyone can be given the gift of wizardry, but it takes much time and effort to master it, so that it is passed on only to apprentices who study for years. Because it can be so dangerous, we wizards are very careful in choosing our apprentices."

  It was not the social structure that interested Slant "You haven't told me what it is," he said.

  "I don't understand."

  "You haven't told me what magic is," he said. "I don't understand its basic nature. I have seen a wizard fly; I know wizards can tell when someone is lying. How do they do these things? What force is at work?"

  "I'm afraid that's impossible to explain. A wizard learns to see things that ordinary people cannot, and by seeing them in this manner he learns to affect them without touching them in the normal sense."

  Slant was not at all satisfied by this explanation. "You're being vague."

  "Your questions are vague."

  "Let me be specific, then. How does a wizard fly?"

  "That is actually a difficult feat. He must learn to see the force that holds us to the ground, and to move around it; I cannot explain it more clearly than that to anyone who does not have the wizard sight."

  "Interrogation by friendly methods appears unproductive," the computer said.

  "I was noticing that myself. He does seem to be talking about gravity, though." He looked at Kurao's bland face and wished he could tell when a wizard was lying as easily as wizards could tell when he was.

  "It's all dependent upon this wizard sight, then?"

  "You might say so,"

  "And you say that's impossible to explain to someone who hasn't got it?"

  "That's right."

  "But it's really very simple, except it takes years to learn."

  "It really is very simple, but learning to use it correctly and safely takes years."

  "Does this sound like double-talk to you?" Slant asked the computer.

  "Affirmative."

  "I don't think he's going to cooperate much more, but I don't want to resort to violence yet. Any suggestions?"

  "It is possible subject cannot explain gravitational disturbances. Query: How certain is identification of this subject as enemy weapons researcher?"

  "That's a good point; I haven't seen him use any magic."

  Kurao sat silently through what appeared to him a moment of contemplation on Slant's part; his gaze was beginning to wander idly about the room when Slant asked, "Could you demonstrate your magic for me?"

  "Certainly; it will cost another three of those coins, though."

  That did not surprise Slant in the least; he passed two coins across the table. "Start with those; I'll give you two more if I'm pleased with the demonstration."

  Kurao shrugged and slipped the coins out of sight "What sort of demonstration would you like?" he asked. "What can you do?"

  "I can do a great many things. Usually I am called on to sell aphrodisiacs and automata, but I know many wizardry arts; I can fly, and make rain, and all the usual stunts."

  "Automata?"

  "Yes; you know, artificial creatures. They can be very useful. People use them to spy on one another, or to carry messages—"

  "I don't know what you're talking about. You can make these things?"

  "Yes, exactly; I make them, and bring them to life."

  "That sounds like a good demonstration."

  "You'll have to pay for the materials."

  "Haven't I paid enough already?" He was beginning to tire of the wiz
ard's greed.

  "Oh, well …"

  Slant passed another coin across the table.

  Kurao smiled. "I'll start right away." He stood and crossed to the shelves; after poking about for several minutes, he turned back toward Slant, holding up a large stuffed lizard. "Will this do?"

  Slant shrugged. "I suppose it will." He had no idea what the wizard was talking about

  Nodding absently, Kurao wandered from shelf to shelf, collecting various jars and other objects; at last, his arms full, he returned to the table and dumped his assortment of junk in front of the cyborg. "I don't really need all of this," he admitted apologetically, "but it helps."

  Slant still didn't know what he was talking about; he said nothing. The computer was less agreeable. "Recommend subject be restricted to necessary elements of demonstration."

  "Oh, shut up. If this other stuff will help him with his nonsense, it doesn't matter."

  "Recommend subject be required to provide step-by-step explanation."

  "That's a good idea." Kurao was sorting out his collection; Slant got his attention with a gesture and said, "Would you mind explaining as you go along?"

  "Well … suppose, instead, you ask questions. I may be too busy."

  "Is that acceptable?"

  "Affirmative."

  "All right. Go ahead."

  "Thank you." Kurao took a pouch of yellow powder from the heap on the table, stooped beside the hanging cauldron, and blew on the coals in the brazier. They flared up redly; Slant had not realized they were lit. The wizard poured the contents of the pouch on the burning coals. A thin wisp of smoke arose, and a sweet smell reached Slant's nose.

  "What is that?"

  "Powdered tree bark."

  "What's it for?"

  "It burns cleanly, smells pleasant; it's a good thing to start a spell with."

  "Is it necessary?"

  "No, it's mostly for effect. It helps set the proper mood." He fanned the brazier, and another curl of smoke drifted upward. "You must have pleasant surroundings, as the least distraction or irritation is likely to make you miss something."

  He rose, returned to the table, and pulled out the stuffed lizard. "The object you plan to animate must have the proper shape, you understand. It has to be a shape that can do whatever the automaton is supposed to do. If you want it to talk, it has to have a mouth and throat; if you want it to walk it has to have legs; if you want it to fly it must have wings. If you want it to write it has to have hands and fingers; paws won't do. You might be able to add legs and whatever later, but they'll never work right if they weren't there from the beginning. You understand?"

  "It seems clear."

  "Explanation is ambiguous and unclear."

  "Shut up."

  "Now, since even the simplest automaton is alive, more or less, it needs much the same things inside as you or I or any other animal. A stuffed lizard like this hasn't any digestive tract or anything except a gut full of sawdust, so you need the proper materials. Transmutation would take too long; if you tried to make what you need out of the sawdust the part you made first would rot before you were finished, and the poor thing would die by pieces. You need these." He pulled several jars out of the heap, calling off their contents as he did. "Dried bones; dried blood; liver paste—I'd intended to eat that sometime, but it's going bad; powdered newts—very handy stuff—it has all the trace elements you'll need; bird's wings, for the muscles, nice and compact; hydrochloric acid for the digestion. …" The list went on for quite some time, as Slant merely stared. What was the old fool talking about? Was he claiming he would build a live lizard?

  "Ordinarily I don't explain this, I just do it; it's harder when I have to think about it." He picked up the jar of dried bones. "These are from a lizard about this size." He opened the jar and pulled out a handful of thin white objects that reminded Slant of chicken bones; the wizard's face went slack for an instant, then taut, his lips compressed into a thin line, his beard bristling, as Slant felt again the electric prickle of nearby magic.

  The wizard placed the bones quickly, one by one, atop the stuffed lizard; Slant stared in amazement as they sank into the green hide, vanishing completely, apparently sucked through the scaly skin as if it were water. He paid no attention to the computer's statement, "Gravitational anomaly representing enemy weapons research occurring in immediate vicinity of cyborg unit."

  "What did you do? How did you do that?"

  Kurao apparently didn't hear him; he was concentrating his entire attention on his work. When he had finished with the bones, he opened the jar of pigeon wings and began arranging those carefully on the lizard; as he did they fell to pieces, feathers and bones scattering and rattling on the table, the muscles and cartilage vanishing, like the dried bones, into the skin.

  "Wait! Stop and tell me what you're doing!"

  "Can't." Dried blood was next, disappearing as soon as it touched the scales.

  "You've got to explain!"

  "Can't; it'll die." More ingredients were absorbed without a sound, leaving no sign they had ever been.

  "It's already dead!"

  "Visual input incomprehensible. Please verify."

  Slant was too agitated to obey immediately; he watched as water and acid were spooned out, to vanish in midair even before touching the lizard's hide.

  "Please verify."

  "I don't understand it either; the stuff is disappearing."

  Kurao continued to concentrate on the lizard; when he had put into it all the ingredients he had gathered, he still stared at it. Slant continued to demand an explanation.

  He stopped talking abruptly when he saw the lizard's foot-long tail twitch.

  A moment later Kurao slumped back on his stool, and the lizard turned its head to stare at Slant through green glass eyes.

  "Gravitational anomalies representing enemy weapons research have subsided to steady low level; visual anomalies continue."

  Slant stared back at the lizard for several seconds. "Is that really alive?"

  "Information insufficient."

  "No, not really. It lives only as long as I want it to. If I want, it'll be nothing but skin and sawdust and garbage again."

  "What did you do? You rearranged those things until it had all its internal organs again?"

  "Hligosh, no; am I a god? It's nowhere near as complex as a real lizard. It has no nervous system, no muscles except legs, neck, tail, and heart; it has to eat predigested mush. With everything I can do it probably won't live a week. It's a plaything, really. People like to have them as novelties. They're good for going places people can't fit—cleaning blocked drains and finding lost jewelry and so forth. I'll be glad to sell you this one. It'll do whatever I want it to, unless I turn it over to someone else; then it will obey its new master. If you buy it it will be as much under your control as your own hand—except that it hasn't got any nervous system, so it can't feel anything."

  "Can it see?"

  "I can see through its eyes, if I close my own; not very well even then, I'm afraid, and I can't transfer that. I've always had trouble with eyes."

  Slant stared at the motionless lizard in awe. He still didn't understand the source or type of energy the locals used, or how they used it, but it was undeniably impressive. The lizard lashed its tail, and turned its head back and forth. He could see that it wasn't truly a lizard; its tongue hung limp and unmoving from its mouth and it never blinked. Still, it moved as if alive.

  "Require further explanation," the computer told him.

  "How did you do that?"

  "How did I do what?"

  "Bring it to life."

  "By wizardry, of course."

  "What machines did you use?"

  "None; you saw me." Kurao was surprised by the question.

  "Subject is apparently lying."

  Slant wasn't so certain of that any more, and made no reply.

  "Suggest interrogation by threat."

  Reluctantly, Slant agreed. "You may be right. Let me t
ry one more thing first." He looked from the lizard to Kurao and asked, "What if I want to learn some simple wizardry? Just enough to do a few stunts?"

  "You can't do that. You're either a wizard or you're not, you see."

  "What if I want you to make me a wizard?"

  "I won't do it. It's forbidden, unless I take you on as an apprentice, and I already have an apprentice."

  "What if I force you to do it?"

  "You can't force me. I'm a wizard, and you're not even armed."

  "How do you make someone a wizard?"

  "By magic, of course." Kurao smiled.

  Slant conceded to himself that he was getting nowhere, reached under his vest, and brought out his snark. Kurao looked at it curiously.

  "This is a weapon from the Bad Times. I know how to use it, and protective spells don't stop it. It can kill you very quickly and messily. I really don't want to use it, but I may have to if you don't start cooperating more fully. Don't move suddenly, don't call out and don't try using any magic on me. If you do as I say, I wont hurt you; I'll even pay you the other two coins I promised. Understand?" Slant delivered this speech slowly and clearly; Kurao listened intently.

  "Yes, I understand."

  Slant felt a very faint tingle; the computer informed him, "Minor gravitional anomaly occurring in immediate vicinity of cyborg unit."

  "I know; shut up." To Kurao he said, "Stop it."

  "I'm not doing anything."

  Slant pointed the snark at the cauldron and pressed the trigger; black dust puffed out. The vessel rang dully as a hole a quarter meter across appeared in its side and the far side of the interior began to bubble like melting cheese.

  He coughed from the dust once as he took the pressure off the trigger and pointed the weapon at the wizard. "Stop it, I said."

  "Gravitational anomaly has ceased."

  "That's better."

  Kurao stared at the mouth of the snark but said nothing.

  "Now, I want to know about magic. Are there any machines or devices used?"

  "No, I swear, there is nothing concealed. There's no need to hide anything, because nonwizards couldn't do anything anyway."

  "Query: Reliability of statement."

  "I don't know; hold on a moment" He reached out with his free left hand and took hold of Kurao's right wrist. "Let me ask again; do you use any hidden machines or devices?" His thumb located the wizard's pulse.