Kaz-alrhun's voice drowned out whatever else the Ifrit was saying, speaking heavy syllables I did not recognize—close to the Hidden Language, but certainly not the Language I had learned at the wizards' school. King Solomon's seal burned hot for a second, and light flashed from the gold. I held on grimly in spite of the sharp pain in my hand. Kaz-alrhun stopped speaking, and the seal ceased to rattle across the bottle's mouth. The Ifrit too was silent.
Then the mage said, "You need not clutch the bottle quite so tightly, Daimbert. The seal shall not separate itself while my spell holds."
"And the Ifrit—"
"Is bound there until someone shall loosen the seal to free him."
But I didn't loosen my grip, not yet. "What was that spell you just said?"
"The activating spell for Solomon's seal. I know you western wizards are a little backwards in your knowledge, but I had expected you, Daimbert, to know his seal when you saw it!"
Oh, I did all right. "I know what else I recognize when I see it." I glared at him, furious, forgetting my leg, forgetting my burned hand in my anger. "I recognize you maneuvering me. You had heard this seal was in a roc's nest and that the Ifrit was searching for it. So you sent me after it, conveniently showing up just in time with a bottle. Now you're going to expect me to hand the Ifrit over to you, being properly grateful for your spell."
Maffi turned toward us, hands full of jewels. "And are you not properly grateful? Is this not what you came to the East to find, a captive Ifrit who would do your bidding?"
I held the bottle toward him so he could hear better. "He doesn't sound likely to do anybody's bidding."
"—first your feet, then your calves, and then your thighs!" the Ifrit was shouting in his tiny insect-whine voice.
But Kaz-alrhun looked thoughtful. "You may retain the bottle—and the binding seal—at your need, Daimbert. And I do not even ask for your thanks in restoring your companions."
He said a few quick words in the language that was not quite the Hidden Language, and the two black dogs immediately turned back into Hadwidis and Gwennie: exhausted, bleeding, and ragged, but thoroughly young women again. I shook my head in admiration for the mage's abilities. He had transformed them into dogs and transformed them back, and I still didn't have the slightest idea how his spells had worked. Maffi was at once all solicitation. He had the women sit down, salved and bandaged the dog-bites with an emergency kit he produced from his pocket, and presented them with the jewels, saying that the stones for which I had nearly been pecked to death by nestling rocs were intended as compensation for their troubles. The two appeared dazed, though Gwennie took the jewels in her lap.
Hadwidis put both arms around her. "You saved my life," she murmured. "Those dogs would have killed me. Thank you." Both turned to glower in my direction, as though this were my fault.
Other than making sure they were not badly injured, I had no time yet for them. I was not through with Kaz-alrhun. "You're not answering me," I said, low and hard, "because you can't deny what I'm saying. You just wanted me to do your messy work for you. But your plans won't succeed, because I'm keeping this Ifrit, and Solomon's seal."
The mage chuckled then, not insulted in the slightest. "I fear I may be learning the true nature of your feelings for me, Daimbert, without even the necessity of planting rumors of my death! But do not let your rage build so; it is too hot here for that. If you think that my information was so good as to know exactly where Solomon's seal was to be found and how to trick you into finding it for me, you imagine more than even I have ever accomplished.
"Of course I knew," he continued, "that the chances might now be excellent for finding the golden seal you now clutch so tightly to you. I told you as much yesterday. It has been treasured, stolen, lost and found, bought and sold, all over the East for over two thousand years. At only a few points in its history has it fallen into the hands of a mage who knew even a fraction of Solomon's magic, enough to activate the great binding spells inherent within it. But the rumors have been building these last months, in Xantium and all around the Central Sea."
"Rumors that it was in a roc's nest," I muttered.
"Not that specific, Daimbert," with a flash of his gold tooth. "But I calculated that if we mages had heard of it, then an Ifrit would also have done so. He would be just as interested as we—although for different reasons. I only knew for certain how to contact one Ifrit, but I also knew for certain that if I contacted him I did so at peril of my life. When you said that you sought to meet with an Ifrit I realized how dangerous it would be. As you recall, I attempted to talk you out of it."
My own recollections were somewhat different, but I let it pass.
"My hope was that the Ifrit would know where the seal was located, even though I did not. Thinking of your own resourcefulness, I also hoped that you might be able to trick him into leading you to it. You succeeded even more quickly than I had anticipated. Perhaps I should have thought to check all the rocs' nests within five hundred miles of Xantium, though the prospect were daunting."
"Um, where are we exactly?" I said, not wanting to give up righteous indignation just yet. But between my relief at being alive and his matter-of-fact answers, I was finding it harder and harder to keep the fury going.
"Nearly two hundred miles east of Xantium, I would calculate. Not where I would have looked first for a roc. But you have succeeded, Daimbert! It was my confidence in you that made me decide, when your purple beast abruptly took off from my house, following you wherever you had gone, that I should bring a bottle as I came in pursuit."
"You can't have your bottle back," I said. "Not as long as there's an Ifrit in it."
"Of a certainty, Daimbert," he said with another chuckle. "What would I do with an imprisoned Ifrit? At the moment he would seem to be threatening to tear you apart rather than grant you wishes for freeing him again, but perhaps you may teach him better manners back in your little kingdom of Yurt. I have some lead at my house; it would be best to have the bottle properly sealed."
"I'm still keeping Solomon's signet," I said stubbornly.
III
Off in the distance, I saw a dark shape with an enormous wing-span, moving majestically toward us. "The roc's chicks must be hungry again," I said. "Let's get out of here before it arrives." With me astride Naurag and the rest of them riding Kaz-alrhun's flying carpet, we headed back toward Xantium. Gwennie and Hadwidis were ignoring me pointedly.
Our shadows rippled below us over miles of rocky scrub, with the occasional village or meandering stream to break up the sameness of the landscape. I had the Ifrit's bottle in my pocket, where he was just barely audible. From the occasional word I caught, he seemed to be making up new and imaginative tortures to apply to me before finishing me off.
I tried unsuccessfully to arrange my leg in a comfortable position and stroked Naurag's neck. I told him what a good flying beast he was, and how he could have all the melons he wanted as soon as we got back to Xantium. If he hadn't come after us, pursued by the mage, I might still be dodging between Ifrit and roc. For that matter, if Kaz-alrhun hadn't known the spell to activate Solomon's seal, I might be dead already.
To distract myself from the pain in my leg, I speculated in a rather desultory way about all the different forms of magic. The mage's spells were different from mine, and also different from Theodora's fire magic, or the terrifying magic of blood and bone practiced by the dark wizards of the Eastern Kingdoms, or the herbal magic which had been more prevalent in the West before the advent of the school, much less the magic of the Ifrit, who did not seem to use spells at all, but could transport us hundreds of miles in a few excruciating seconds. School magic, I was beginning to think, was only one of a myriad possible ways to move through magic's four dimensions, and must have been given the form we now took for granted by the old wizard Naurag.
Was there anything in these other forms of magic I might possibly use against Elerius—ignoring for the moment the detail that I didn't really know any
of them very well? By the time we got home it would be over two weeks since my funeral. I wondered uneasily what had been happening while I was gone and what I would have to do about it. Aiming the Ifrit's bottle at Elerius, prying off the seal, and then standing back struck me as one appealing strategy.
Elerius would be hampered by no longer being able to operate out of the school, but he still had his kingdom— Hadwidis's kingdom. No telling how many of the various wizards from around the Western Kingdoms would follow him. I suspected that he had been working on gaining their support for years. The school had always been the focus for wizardry, even since its foundation some two centuries ago, but that had never meant that we wizards were inclined to line up all on the same side.
And meanwhile, what was happening in the City? Presumably Elerius was no longer in the running for mayor, but that only meant that the mayoral election would have become suddenly much messier. The City had always taken the presence of the wizards for granted, but how would a rift among the school wizards be affecting those who lived below the school's white spires? And since Elerius's candidate for bishop had been elected just before my funeral, then I guessed that a bitter divide was developing there as well, as the cathedral priests looked with new suspicion at the man they had chosen as their spiritual leader.
And what of the armies I had seen in Caelrhon? Who was planning to invade whom, and what part did Elerius intend his undead soldiers to play? I had a feeling I was not going to like the answers.
* * * *
It was dark by the time we reached Xantium, but the lights flickered like fairy-land as we banked over the city. It was quieter now than during the day, and through the distant bursts of song, sudden arguments, and children's shouts, I could hear the waves splashing gently in the harbor. The flying carpet dove downward toward Kaz-alrhun's house, and I followed more sedately on Naurag.
"I shall accompany you back to the West," Maffi announced as we ate a late supper of cold eggplant and lentils. "I have never seen the fabled Western Kingdoms, with their unusual customs, exotic foods, and strange magic. But if I am to become a great mage, perhaps even as great some day as my most revered master here," with a quirk of his lips and a sideways glance at Kaz-alrhun, "then I need to expand my knowledge of all of God's creation. And besides," smiling toward Gwennie, "there are other attractions in the West as well!"
Gwennie and Hadwidis, exhausted from their ordeal, leaned against each other, taking occasional bites of lentils, They gave no sign of having heard this last, but then Gwennie had already ignored Maffi's earlier suggestion that she lean her head on his shoulder. Since the women were also ignoring me and seemed intimidated by Kaz-alrhun, they stayed pretty much out of the conversation.
* * * *
I had hoped that by the next day they would feel sufficiently recovered that we could start back toward the West. But instead the next morning I woke with my leg burning like fire, and Gwennie, solicitious now, announced that I had a fever and could not travel. The one good thing about being wounded, I thought somewhat groggily, was that one got forgiven. I sent Maffi off to the market with as explicit instructions as I could, to find a certain kind of herb that should help against fever and inflammation. But in the meantime it looked as if we were staying in Xantium a while longer.
The first day wasn't too bad, other than the pain, which persisted even through broken sleep. Maffi returned with a variety of herbs, none of which looked right to my bleary eyes, and an offer to bring a doctor, which I refused. Gwennie, announcing that no self-respecting household could function properly if run by automatons, took over the responsibilities of the constable Kaz-alrhun apparently hadn't known he needed. The first thing she did was to order new drapes and new scrub brushes, telling the mage to expect the bill and that, once she had had a good look at the kitchens, she expected to be placing quite a few more orders.
Maffi, trying to persuade me that the obviously worthless herbs he had procured were really what I wanted, also told me that the automatons who normally did the cooking were huddled in the courtyard behind the fountain. Gwennie did not wait for whatever new pots she thought the kitchens lacked to get started there. It was not for nothing she was a cook's daughter, I thought, slurping down the best chicken soup I had had in months. Maybe soup could count as still an additional form of magic.
But by the second day the leg was much worse, impossible to put weight on, and I was too fevered to take any more soup. The spells against pain were hard to work, because I kept getting lost in the middle, and they only seemed to transfer the pain from my leg to my head. "The bone is cracked, not merely strained," Gwennie pronounced and had Maffi go for a surgeon whether I wanted one or not.
He was a wizened little man, gray-haired and dressed in black, with enormous strength in his hands. After probing delicately around my leg for a moment, he took hold of it briskly, ordered me to cling to the bedpost, and gave it a yank that felt as though he was ripping me in two.
But once the red pain had finished pouring through, I felt strangely light-headed and comfortable. The surgeon strapped the leg to a splint with a few quick motions. "God be praised, the bone is sound and had not started to knit in the cracked position," he told me, gathering up his things. "Rest in bed a few days, and keep from walking more than a few steps for two weeks."
For a second as he moved the light chain around his neck swung free of his shirt. I had expected to see a cross on the chain; instead it was a six-pointed star. He was one of the Children of Abraham.
Quickly, before the comfort of having the bone set could fade, I levered myself up on my elbows and scribbled on a piece of paper. "Here," I said, showing it to him. "What do these symbols mean?"
I knew I hadn't drawn them very well, but I had had to do it from memory, because the face of King Solomon's seal was still tight across the mouth of the Ifrit's bottle and I wasn't about to pry it off for a better look.
The surgeon squinted at my drawing in surprise. "They are not symbols but letters, the writing used by Moses to record the first account of humanity's creation and sins, and of our ancestors' covenant with God. Did you know you have written all the letters backwards? The words, however, are meaningless whether read backwards or forwards—are you sure you have written all the letters in their correct arrangement?"
I wasn't, but even more likely was that Solomon's words of power which he had inscribed on his great seal were not the sort of words someone would recognize without already being a magic-worker. Maybe Solomon had first regularized the magic that was still studied in the East, the same way that Naurag, many centuries later, had done the same in the West—only using a different language. I thanked the surgeon and let him go; no chance there of learning the magic inherent in this seal for myself.
Enough for now that I had the Ifrit captive. I kept the bottle under my bed, not trusting either Kaz-alrhun or Maffi not to take it, the former to gain the Ifrit's power for himself, the latter to show off to Gwennie. As I slept fitfully I still thought I could hear the Ifrit ranting, though he was now starting to repeat himself in his threats.
The following day I sent Maffi off to the market with new instructions for herbs to find. He still couldn't locate precisely what I wanted, thus further reducing my respect for a thieves' market that couldn't even produce the simple plants that grew on western hillsides. But several of the herbs he did bring back had enough potential that by evening I was able to rally both my strength and my knowledge of herbal magic to activate a spell against inflammation. I was starting to feel nervously that the longer I stayed out of the Western Kingdoms the worse the situation there would be.
* * * *
We ended up staying in Kaz-alrhun's house in Xantium for over a week. I saw our host very little; I didn't know whether, sick, I simply failed to provide diversion, whether he was trying to stay out of Gwennie's way, or whether he was off discovering new and interesting details about the affairs of the world, which he had no interest in sharing with us.
&
nbsp; Maffi, however, took to coming and sitting by my chair, once I could sit up for long periods, trying to persuade me that he really enjoyed Gwennie's cooking, even though the word "bland" kept appearing in his praise for her dishes, and getting me to teach him school magic. Some of it, especially the elaborate illusions, produced effects which fascinated him. But in many other cases he would say offhandedly, "Oh, I already know a better spell for that."
That was fine with me. "So what spell did Kaz-alrhun teach you for this effect?" I would ask casually, and Maffi was more than happy to demonstrate. I had always known my knowledge of school magic was inadequate beside Elerius's. My only hope might lie in learning kinds of magic of which he had never dreamed.
Gwennie stayed busy, supervising the household the way she thought it ought to be supervised, and Hadwidis followed the older woman around. By the time I was able to hobble unaided into the kitchen, Hadwidis, demonstrating the useful skills taught her in the nunnery, had tied an apron around her waist and taken over much of the cooking, though she was much better on vegetable dishes than on anything with meat in it.
The two women also went out every day to see something of Xantium. Gwennie arranged, through Maffi, to sell just one of the jewels from the roc's nest, and she and Hadwidis found themselves with more than enough money to buy whatever they wanted in Xantium's markets.
Hadwidis came regularly to sit with me in the evenings and tell me about sailing over the city with Maffi on the flying carpet, or shopping in the bazaars, or watching a pageant put on in the plaza, or a professional sword fight there, or having a glass of wine under an arbor in an inn's courtyard while a flute player played in the background. Maffi paid most of his attention to Gwennie, but he was certainly not above complimenting Hadwidis on her appearance when she put on something new. One day she came in to see me wearing big hoop earrings and with her eyelids painted iridescent blue. It would be very hard after this to get her back into the nunnery.
Is This Apocalypse Necessary Page 21
