On the other hand Gwennie, in spite of all the excitement of being in an exotic place, seemed to be thinking wistfully of Yurt. Or at least I was. So I was very glad when one morning I awoke to find my leg feeling much better and announced that we were heading home.
Kazalrhun reappeared as we were packing. The last thing we did in his house was to seal the Ifrit's bottle properly, with lead, stamped with Solomon's seal and strengthened with the mage's spells. Even Kaz-alrhun could not read the words of power on the seal, though he certainly knew how to activate them. It didn't seem to slow the Ifrit down, and indeed he seemed to be inventing even more horrible things to do to me, but I felt at least slightly more secure. And with the seal off the end of the bottle, now I could study the letters carved into it.
Until the very moment we left I kept expecting Kaz-alrhun to demand Solomon's great seal from me. As near as I could tell, he had maneuvered me into meeting the Ifrit at least in part to obtain the seal, and yet he seemed slow to claim it. I even checked it with probing spells as we finished loading the last of Hadwidis's purchases onto the flying carpet, fearing that the mage might have stolen the seal from me and substituted something different. But its strange, ancient magic was unchanged. The only explanation was that the mage had some subtle, long-range plan that involved me keeping it.
We left Xantium with me on the purple flying beast and Gwennie and Hadwidis on the flying carpet with Maffi. I didn't entirely trust his presence, feeling fairly sure he was prepared to send all sorts of interesting information about us back to Kaz-alrhun, but I could use all the help I could get.
As we soared from the courtyard of the mage's house, Kaz-alrhun waving jovially after us, I felt a fierce exhilaration. Broken leg or not, I had come to the East with the wild-eyed plan of mastering an Ifrit, and it appeared I had done so. Now all I had to do was figure out how to use it against Elerius without getting myself killed in the process.
IV
We flew faster on our way back toward the Western Kingdoms than we had on our way east. Naurag flapped along briskly with only me riding, and the magic carpet seemed easily capable of keeping up. I stretched out my leg— merely strapped now, rather than attached to a splint—along the flying beast's back.
We followed not the route along which we had come, which would have taken us west along the Inland Sea and then up the rivers that lead north into the heart of the Western Kingdoms. Rather we took a more direct route, across the Eastern Kingdoms that lay inland, between Xantium and the high mountain range which we in the Western Kingdoms considered the beginning of the East. Here the castles were more heavily fortified than anything seen in the West since the Black Wars; dust clouds along the roads marked marching troops of armed men; and the prevalent scrubby woodland suggested that most of the rural population not directly under the protection of a fortress had either been killed or else had given up and moved away.
I had been gone from Yurt for close to a month. Anything could have happened, and I needed information. It was only an idea, and even finding the place was not easy. The last time I had crossed the Eastern Kingdoms had been on horseback, not flying, and everything looked different from the air. My memories of the location were also more than twenty years old, and I was not even sure what I sought would be visible. But after two frustrating days of criss-crossing the rocky upland where I was sure it must be, I spotted it: a black obsidian castle, rising jagged from a hilltop, its windows glowing dully like eyes and its great doors an open mouth. The sun shone overhead, but the black stone seemed to throw its own shadow in all directions, sheltering the land from the light.
With a quick word I paused Naurag, hovering, above it. I could have sworn I had searched this very hill the day before. But then the flying carpet had been with me, whereas this afternoon I had told Maffi to take a break from the tedious and unprofitable search—Gwennie had said she and Hadwidis might try to find a stream in which to bathe, which possibility Maffi had found intriguing.
And if the castle had indeed been here yesterday, but hidden, then that meant that someone was interested in meeting me—but not anyone else. The autumn air was already chilly here in the Eastern Kingdoms, but suddenly it seemed even colder. I rubbed my sore leg absently, working up my courage.
Twenty years ago the dark wizard Vlad had made this castle the center of his principality. He was gone now, but it looked as though another wizard had taken up residence here—doubtless another eastern wizard imbued with the magic of blood and bone. I had known less magic two decades ago than I knew now, I reminded myself, and I had not had a friendly flying beast to help me get away fast if necessary. But I had still escaped alive, which ought to mean I could always escape again.
Besides, I needed an artifact which might still be in the castle. I touched my heels to Naurag's sides, and he flew us down to land in front of the gates. The spikes from the raised portcullis could have been teeth, ready to snap me up as I entered the castle's maw.
Reluctantly I left Naurag outside. With his wings he would have been a very tight fit in the dark corridor which stretched beyond the nail-studded doors. He looked around dubiously, clearly regretting this entire trip and wishing that we had stayed in the valley by the little lake up in the land of wild magic, along with the melons and the butterflies. I could see his point.
A ditch so deep I couldn't make out the bottom gaped immediately before the castle, but the drawbridge was down. Slowly I crossed, my feet echoing, then passed beneath the portcullis. I took one step inside, then another, forcing myself not to limp. It was now as silent as though I were a mile underground, not on top of a hill. Even the sound of my steps was swallowed up at once.
But if this castle had been invisible yesterday, then there was an active mind at work here. I lit up the moon and stars on my belt buckle; they made a faint glow that gave me the courage for a few more steps. So far, then, spells of light were still working. A spell to reveal the presence of the supernatural indicated no demons nearby either. And if I glanced over my shoulder I could still see the open doors, a short distance behind me, but before me all was blackness.
I realized I was listening for the regular tap-tap of approaching feet. But the man I half expected to see was dead and dismembered, many years and a great many miles from here. If he was coming down that corridor anyway, the voice in the back of my head commented, I should be on Naurag's back, heading out at top speed.
Now I was a dozen yards down the corridor, trying to remember exactly where I had last seen the artifact I needed. One of the rooms down this corridor, I thought. If whoever had taken over this castle after Vlad's demise didn't want to show himself, then maybe I could snatch what I needed and be gone before he was any the wiser.
A sharp creak cut the air behind me. I whirled to see the great doors slam shut, cutting off both light and escape.
And then I did hear footsteps, coming briskly, still far off but approaching rapidly. My first thought was to smash the doors open with magic and flee wildly, but I hadn't spent two days looking for this castle to run at the first hint of danger. I put my back against the cold stone wall and waited.
I saw the candle flame first, a soft yellow glow that seemed lost amid shadows that were nearly solid with lack of light. Then the dimness above the flame resolved itself into a face, long and white, a face that was smiling. The lips were strangely red in the candlelight.
This was a much younger man than Vlad, I told my wildly beating heart. And it looked as if he had been born with all the body parts now attached to him. He couldn't be as bad as that half-dead prince.
And then the man before me smiled, showing dozens of needle-sharp teeth. "A western wizard, as I hoped," he commented, as though speaking to someone else. His voice was cold and flat in spite of the smile, and it echoed up and down the corridor around us. Another few steps, and he was staring into my eyes. His were purple and completely round. "Might I query, might I guess, that you are Daimbert of Yurt?"
There didn't seem t
o be any use in denying it. "Yes, I am," I said, just managing to keep the tremor out of my voice. "But I'm afraid I don't know your name."
I saw then who he had been addressing before speaking to me. On his shoulder perched a lizard, dead white and three feet long, including the tail. Just like having a purple flying beast for a companion, only smaller, I tried to reassure myself. It cocked an eye at me and flicked a long tongue.
"I am named Basil, but you may call me Count," the man said, slipping his lizard a slimy morsel of something. "And this is my pet, Bone."
A pet, I told myself. A man with a pet couldn't be too bad. I would offer to buy the artifact from him if he still had it; I had never been comfortable anyway with the idea of stealing it. In half an hour I would be safely on my way again.
"Bone prefers to eat human corpses," Count Basil continued conversationally. "But unfortunately we're all out at the moment."
So much for feeling reassured! The lizard was staring at me again, doubtless contemplating whether it would be difficult to turn me into a corpse. Dead white as if it and its kind had never seen the sun, with its master's eyes round and dark as though for seeing in the night, neither of these were creatures of day. Surreptitiously, behind my back, I flicked a quick flame into existence, just long enough to scorch my fingers and reassure myself that the magic of light had not yet deserted me.
But it had been Vlad who had been overcome by spells of light. This was a different wizard; I couldn't expect to escape from him the same way. And very oddly he was, it appeared, trying to be friendly.
"I would offer you refreshment, Daimbert," Basil said politely, "but I fear you would not like what I eat and drink." Even without knowing what it was, I had to agree with him. "I am so delighted to meet you after so many years! I would introduce you to my other pet as well, but little Blood does not come out during daylight. Besides, he usually terrifies my visitors. Come and sit with me a moment."
He led me to a room that was strangely familiar—Vlad's old sitting room. It was hung with folds of velvet, worked black on black, that seemed to absorb the light. Bodiless hands floated around the room's periphery, holding more candles, but nothing could penetrate the shadows.
And then on a black marble table I saw it, what I had hoped to find: the face section of a skull, the eye sockets set with crystals.
Putting itchy fingers into my pocket, I sat down on an uncomfortable chair by a cold fireplace, thrusting out my sore leg before me. "Glad to meet you too, Count," I mumbled, much too late.
Basil didn't seem to mind. "You see, Daimbert," he said, sitting across from me and leaning forward, "I owe you a debt of gratitude. I understand that you were responsible for the death of Prince Vlad."
I jumped at the name but tried to appear calm. "Well, not exactly," I said, half an octave too high. "I didn't actually kill him myself."
He waved my objections away with a slim white hand. The nails, like his lips, were a deep blood red. "The details are unimportant. He left here to pursue you, but instead of your death he found his own. Not merely the half-death with which he had long lived, but a final one, " with what was probably supposed to be an ironic chuckle. "And with his castle empty, I was able to claim it for myself.
"In years past," he continued, "I had had to give myself in miserable service to older wizards, but now, though younger than most, I rule as equal to them all. Do you remember Vlad's apprentice Cyrus?" I nodded without speaking, remembering all too well. "When Cyrus left for the West, Vlad took me on as his assistant, which was an improvement from where I had been." I didn't like to imagine where he had been if Vlad was an improvement. "I even hoped that within fifty years or so I might be able to succeed to this castle. But then Vlad went west himself and died in Yurt! So my success begins with you, Daimbert, and I have spent much time in thinking how I might express my gratitude."
I made what was supposed to be a humble and dismissive noise, but not too dismissive—I wanted that crystal-eyed skull.
"Those of you from what you call the Western Kingdoms cross the mountains into our lands but rarely," he continued, "unless you are on some sort of quest or pilgrimage. Are you on your way to Xantium, Daimbert, or even to the Holy Land? Perhaps I could accompany you, to add my store of magic to yours, for I am sure there are spells known to me that are unknown to you. Certainly you are expert in your western magic of glass and steel, but there is much in this earth which responds best to a different magic."
I turned my face away so he wouldn't see the expression of horror. I was not going to face Elerius accompanied by a dark eastern wizard, who would be stopping to find corpses for his pet every time I looked for melons for Naurag. At my funeral Joachim had said I was good at making friends; if this was the result of my personal charm, I would have to try harder to make enemies.
He misinterpreted the turning of my head. "He's looking at the skull, Bone," he commented to the lizard on his shoulder. I was looking at the skull so I wouldn't have to look at him. "This," he continued to me, "is a good example of powers I believe you western wizards do not possess. Take it, hold it to your face, and look at the map."
This was what I wanted, but I still felt heavy reluctance as I rose and held the face of someone long dead up to mine and looked through the crystals in his eye-sockets. On the table was spread a map of the Eastern Kingdoms, and as I looked through the enchanted skull it came to life before me. In spite of the room's dimness, it now seemed brightly lit. No longer a mere detailed map, it became a surface on which I could see motion, merchants and troops moving on the highways, smoke rising from chimneys, forests bending in the wind.
It took a minute to get used to the skull, to learn to control where one looked, for a quick flick of the eyes could send one's vision shooting across scores of miles. The closer I looked the more detailed the map became. At last, peering, I could make out a tiny red rectangle, which must be the flying carpet, lying beside a stream where three people splashed. They seemed unconcerned that they might be watched by wizardry.
Then the hill just above that stream must be where I was now. I shifted my gaze cautiously. The hill was there, all right, and the miniscule form of a flying beast floated just above it, but the hilltop was empty: no black castle, but only barren rock.
"Marvelous, is it not," said Basil as I pulled the skull abruptly away from my face. "He seems quite impressed," he added to his pet.
"We're not on the map," I said accusingly. I still hadn't managed to make my voice come out right.
"Of course not, Daimbert," his purple eyes very round. "My castle is not drawn there, and most of the time I keep it invisible. It reduces the number of unwanted guests," with another chuckle.
And usually you want guests only if Bone is hungry, I thought but didn't say. Instead I commented, quite truthfully, "This is wonderful magic. We have nothing like it in the West."
"I shall certainly bring it with us," he said, then added, as though in sudden concern, "But it only works with the magic map of this region. Perhaps I shall be able to modify it so that it may assist you in your quest."
I too hoped it could be modified—it wouldn't be much use to me otherwise, because I really didn't want to know what was happening in the Eastern Kingdoms. But in the meantime I had to dissuade him from coming along. "I appreciate your offer of assistance," I said airily, "but you really need to stay here. After all, you don't want another wizard moving in while you're gone!"
He gazed at me as though not quite trusting my tone. "I can leave protective spells in place," he said. "Vlad's worked until his death. Now, tell me, Daimbert, where are you going?"
It was easiest to tell the truth. "I'm not on a quest. I've been in the East, but I'm heading home to face an enemy. He's a school-trained wizard like me, so I'm afraid your magic wouldn't be much help."
Basil bent toward me. I wished he wouldn't—his face, up close, appeared horribly artificial, as though he were not even really a man but perhaps a lizard in disguise—and a hungry lizard
at that. "But that is exactly how I can help, Daimbert. As I understand—and you realize that the stories which came back from the West were very confused—you were able to overcome Vlad with magic different from anything he had expected. We can overcome your enemy with the same sort of surprise. After all, when all of you in the West have worn grooves into the flow of magic through all working the same spells the same way, what would be more devastating than discovering magical forces coming from an entirely new direction?"
I didn't like to admit it, but he was right. I had known all along that I wasn't going to be able to succeed against Elerius by matching him spell for spell. That was why I had first tried to find the Dragons' Sceptre, and why I had then gone looking for an Ifrit—whose bottle was currently hidden among some rocks a mile away. Access to magic different and more powerful than anything Elerius knew was my only hope.
My imagination leaped ahead, seeing myself at the head of a disparate army: the Ifrit, Count Basil, Kaz-alrhun armed with all the magery of Xantium, maybe some witches with fire magic, a few more flying beasts if I could tame them, even one of the old, retired wizards whose training predated the school, wielding his herbal spells—
Basil must have seen that he was persuading me. "You see, Daimbert," he confided, "I perhaps know more about this enemy of yours than you may suppose. One of my old friends lives in the kingdom where your opponent was once Royal Wizard."
I went stiff, my backbone feeling as though an icicle had just been drawn down it. All this suddenly had the feeling of an elaborate trap which Elerius had prepared for me. "Just how much," I said through stiff lips, "do you know?"
V
Back before he had taken up his position in a powerful kingdom with an aging king and an all-too-pliant queen, Elerius had been Royal Wizard in a kingdom on the western slopes of the mountains: an enormously wealthy kingdom whose royal court was deeply sunk in evil. The chancellor of that kingdom had kept in touch with Vlad, in fact had helped steer our party toward this very castle when Vlad had decided he wanted something from us.
Is This Apocalypse Necessary Page 22
