Her Majesty's Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  "Wild is the moorland and empty, And dangerous to men when alone. Lions who rule the vast wasteland Shall guard from the top of each stone."

  "Be not so long with your spells." Sir Guy studied the outer darkness, worried.

  Matt nodded upward. Sir Guy lifted his eyes to the top of the nearest sarcen. A mountain lion crouched on each stone slab, neck craned downward, watching the dogs approach. Pumas-well, Matt hadn't specified what type of lions; these would do well enough.

  Sir Guy looked back at him with respect. "Well done, Lord Wizard! One beast for each monolith."

  "Yeah, but there are only thirty or so sarcens." Matt frowned. He could have wished for a bigger Stonehenge. "These pumas will slow the hellhounds, but they won't stop the beasts."

  The hounds were a hundred feet away, leaping toward the Ring. They broke into snarling howls of malicious triumph as they passed the fifty-foot distance. Then they screamed in shock as two mountain lions landed in front of them, claws and teeth slashing.

  A ripping snarl seemed to fill the sky, leaping from stone to stone. Looking up, Matt saw the great cats leaping over the stones to the eastern blocks, then dropping, seeming to flow off the top of the Stone Ring in a tawny stream. They landed in the midst of a howling melee. Cats slashed throats and bit backs, breaking spines and tossing the hounds over their shoulders; but the hellhounds rallied, ganging up, three to each lion. Steel teeth flashed, tearing out throats and ripping stomachs.

  "'Tis even as you said," Sir Guy admitted grimly. "'Twill slow but not stop them. And methinks the hounds mend as quickly as they are wounded. Small help, your lions, if you cannot heal them as quickly."

  "Yeah," Matt said thoughtfully, "but I'd rather think up some way to keep the dogs from reaching us. This Stone Ring is basically a good design for a fortress."

  "Aye, if some way could be found to close the gaps between the stones. But those are great, Lord Wizard."

  Matt nodded. What he needed was something like a forcefield -- whatever that might be -- to prevent ingress but permit egress. That was impossible, of course ...

  Wait a minute. Maxwell had proposed a hypothetical demon that could open a submicroscopic door to admit only fast-moving molecules of air. That, of course, was magic, not science. But here, magic worked.

  "Long ago and far away, Maxwell felt the need one day For a Demon, scarce as high As the atoms going by. Over heat he gave it sway, Making warmth go either way From the vector Nature gave. Maxwell's Demon, come and save."

  "A demon?" Sir Guy cried. "Wizard, have you lost -- crack like a pistol shot split the night, and an infinitesimal point of light appeared, so bright he couldn't look directly at it. It hovered over the palm of his hand, and a singing hum filled the air.

  "Who summons the Spirit of Perversity?"

  "Wizard, you have fallen to Evil!" Sir Guy gasped, stumbling back away.

  The humming voice snapped like a spark gap. "What dullards have we here? If there's not one who knows the difference between the perverse and the perverted, surely they are not worthy to be accounted among the living."

  Matt felt the skin on his hands and face tingling with the need for caution. There was power here-and the spirit was possibly totally amoral. From the very name it gave itself, if Matt could not guess right, it would be completely unpredictable. "Please, spirit. It was I who summoned you-if you are indeed the one summoned."

  The humming fell to a low, almost inaudible thrum. "Explain, if you have wit enough."

  "I invoked the spirit who could do as Maxwell wished and violate all rules of common sense. Are you the one?"

  The low thrumming continued. "You must tell me. Have I then that power granted, that I do what men deem impossible?"

  "It would seem so." Matt relaxed somewhat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sayeesa staring at the light point in fascination. He'd have to learn why, but the care of the Demon was the crucial point now. "It would be considered perverse."

  The hum rose two steps in pitch, but the Demon was still being wary. "And what mean you by perversity?"

  "Well... " Matt frowned. "Finagle stated it in his general law: The perversity of the universe tends toward maximum."

  "Perhaps there is sense in that." The hum rose higher. "But any man can bandy words in such a fashion. Speak their meaning."

  What did the spirit want, a kindergarten primer? "Well, a number of commentators have spelled out ramifications. There's Murphy's Law: If anything can go wrong, it will."

  "Better, but somewhat lacking," the Demon hummed.

  "Then there's Gunderson's Law: The least desirable possibility will always exert itself when the results will be most frustrating. Or, if anything can go wrong, it will-at the worst possible moment."

  "There have been improvements in Adam's line since last I dealt with mortals," the Demon sang. "But speak on."

  Matt eyed the light point askance. "Well, Freud wrote that living men were imbued with what he called a death-wish. And it has been said that those who most crave sainthood most often are driven toward Hell."

  "Men have gained understanding. Yet be assured I have scant dealing with aught connected with the Hell-crew. They hate me, fearing I have some power over them."

  Matt frowned. "How's that? Oh-because Hell seeks to defeat itself in ultimate goals. And that makes it perverted in itself, rather than perverse." He had remembered the first words of the Demon, and they should apply.

  "You seem to understand. Yet I must think upon it." The spot of light snapped away from over Matt's hand.

  Sayeesa followed its going with her eyes. Then she looked up at Matt. "What is this force you've loosed among us?"

  "Nothing that wasn't there all along." Matt turned away, uneasy at the look on her face.

  "A most learned discourse, Lord Wizard." Sir Guy was watching him doubtfully. "Still, what sense was in it? The universe cannot be perverse; it has no brain or thought."

  "Aye! Speak to that, and quickly!" The Demon was back again, hovering beside Matt.

  "Of course the universe can't really be perverse," Matt said, irked at having to point out the obvious. "Finagle spoke for people, from humanity's point of view. From where we stand, the universe looks perverse."

  "Indeed. Why so?" the Demon demanded.

  "Why?" Matt repeated testily. "Because human beings are inherently perverse. They'll project perversity into anything they look upon. The perversity's in our perceptions, not in the thing perceived-which is to say, it's in us."

  "You have it!" The Demon leaped up a foot and was singing again. "Truly you understand the essense of my nature, which is to be and do what seems beyond your common sense. Your tasks I'll work gladly. Mortal, ask, and I shall do."

  "No strings attached?"

  "Nay, for I've sought long to find a guiding master. Without guidance, what is perversity? What would you have me do?"

  Matt had heard the howls of triumph beyond the sarcens and now he looked up to see the hounds tearing at the last puma. "Then build me a Wall of Octroi between each two pillars, to join the Ring in an unseen shield."

  "Your terms are strange, but your task belies common sense, and that shall I do." The spirit streaked off toward the space between the nearest pillars, paused a moment, then went on to the next.

  "My apologies, Wizard," Sir Guy said. "You have not fallen. And indeed, I misjudged your scholarship, if it gave you power over yon Demon."

  "Only influence," Matt corrected.

  The dot of light was back. 'The Wall's complete. Energies are bonded 'twixt each pair of stones, and none shall pass until you will it. What next do you wish?"

  "Thanks," Matt said. "That does it for the night, I think."

  "Naught more? You summoned me for so small a thing?"

  If erecting three hundred feet of force-field was only a small thing to the Demon, what kind of power was Matt fooling with? He'd have banished the Demon there and then if he were sure he could. As it was, all he could do was grin and say, "Of course. Any o
ther way would have been too much like common sense."

  The Demon accepted that and retired to the far side of the Ring.

  Matt mopped his brow and turned to Sir Guy. "Shall we take a look at the enemy?"

  "By all means." Sir Guy clapped Matt on the shoulder, and they strolled to the nearest sarcen to observe the hellhounds.

  Outside was foaming madness. The hounds ripped and clawed at the invisible barrier in their fury to get at the humans, but the Wall held them without a trace of its existence. Matt could just hear their howls of impotent fury. Strange, the sound should have come over the top of the Wall. With excitement, Matt realized that the shield curved up and over to form a dome.

  The Demon, it seemed, had done a thorough job.

  "They can not come in," Sir Guy observed, "but neither can we go out. What do we now?"

  "Wait." Matt turned away, finding a convenient boulder to sit on. "Wait for sunrise."

  Sir Guy nodded, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips. "Fairly said. Indeed, we might sleep; 'tis the fairest chance we've had in some days."

  He turned away and went over to his horse, to pull a heavy cloak from behind his saddle. He shook it out, spread it on the ground, and began to unbuckle his armor.

  Matt shook his head in mute amazement. How could a man even think of sleep, with the exhilaration of this place singing through his veins? ,

  Farther away, Sayeesa knelt beside her horse, head bowed over clasped hands, lips working silently in prayer, eyes squeezed shut. Sweat glistened on her forehead. The balanced forces in the Ring reinforced her inclinations towards good as well as her inclinations towards vice; in her case, it was a matter of which she chose to think about. So she was thinking holy thoughts, pitting prayer against vice-winning, too; even as he watched, the agony in her face was beginning to subside toward peace.

  He shook his head in silent admiration and rose, turning away, to take a look at the princess.

  Alisande stood in the center of the Ring, eyes wide in wonder and delight, lips parted.

  It was so much unlike her usual demeanor that it frightened Matt. Was she okay? He went up to her quietly, almost diffidently. "Uh-is your Highness well?"

  "Oh, very well!" Alisande breathed. "What a goodly place is this, Lord Wizard!"

  "Well goodly isn't exactly the word I'd choose." Matt looked around him. "But I think I know how you feel; 'high' is what we called it back home."

  "Nay, goodly! I feel as I have never felt this last twelvemonth, with calm, kind goodness filling all the air about me! 'Tis as if I curled again within my father's arm, as if--" Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. "-as if the good kind God himself looked down and smiled."

  Whatever she had, it was contagious; as Matt looked about him again; he suddenly realized the Ring's resemblance to a great church. A cathedral hush enveloped them; the sarcens seemed like great Gothic columns; the occasional fallen slabs seemed like side altars. Moonlight filled the air and plated every slab with silver.

  Alisande gave a little half laugh that caught in her throat. "Though I must own, if God has given shelter here this night, 'tis through yourself that he has given it! I had not known you could command a spirit of such vasty power. 'Twas most well done, Lord Matthew:"

  "Well, there was a lot at stake." Matt swallowed through a suddenly tightened throat.

  "What man are you, who can command such forces?" Alisande breathed, stepping closer, face shining up at him.

  Matt was tempted to launch into a lecture on science, out of sheer self-defense. He reminded himself he'd been wanting this. "I'm only a man, your Highness."

  "Nay, more than that! The title I accorded you, you've earned a hundred-fold this night!"

  Matt could see nothing but her eyes. They seemed dark blue in the moonlight, long-lashed, huge, and deep ...

  He pulled himself back from the brink. "I've got to be honest, your Highness-I don't know if I could have controlled the Demon if it weren't for the power of this Ring. It's flowing through me, here; I'm just a channel for it."

  Her face had softened, growing almost tender. "Aye, this Ring lends you its power-because you are, beneath all else, a very good and upright man."

  Matt felt a thrill of danger course through him. This was getting out of hand. "Well ... yes," he said slowly. "Aside from a few fleshly lapses..."

  "Aye," she said, with a low, throaty laugh, "but you are safe from them in this place. I cannot believe that vice could touch you here, where every particle of earth and air cries out to me of goodness, order, and all things well done! Oh!" She pirouetted away from him. "I could sing, I could carol for joy! My body trills, in every bone and fiber, and craves good works to do!" She looked back at him. "Do you feel so, too, Lord Matthew?"

  "Yes," he said, his eyes glued to her. "Right now, I do."

  Her eyes flew wide in surprise; she inclined her head, looking up at him through lowered lashes, suddenly coy and roguish.

  Then she turned away from him again, laughing with delight. "I have not known happiness this whole past year-and now I've that year's worth upon me in an instant!"

  She leaped away, dancing in whirling turns and soaring leaps, laughing joyously. Matt followed her every movement, unable to pull his eyes away from the sweet, clean line of her body showing through her gown as it whipped about her.

  At last she dropped to her knees, bowed over clasped hands for a moment, before she flung back her head, her closed eyes uplifted in prayer, bathed in moonlight, and Matt felt his excitement ebbing; the dance was done. Still he watched her, the peaceful rapture of her face framed in disordered golden hair.

  Then she was coming toward him, almost on tiptoe, face flushed with exertion, gleaming with perspiration, eyes still alight, full lips parted in exhilaration. The breeze molded her gown to the contours of her body, and the full force of her voluptuous femininity hit Matt like a shock wave. His whole body sizzled with the sudden heat of passion, and he was striding toward her, reaching out.

  Lust! the monitor mind yammered, and Matt realized that any vice let loose in here would feed back off the forces of evil lingering in the stones, fusing his mind into a mass of depravity. He slowed and stopped, sliding his reaching hand out to clasp hers, interlacing her fingers through his own. It sent a jolt up his arm into his chest, and he concentrated all his attention on the feel of her hand.

  She'd lost her smile for a moment, but now it returned, with a greater warmth than friendship. "For a moment, you had frightened me, Lord Matthew!" She lowered her head, looking up at him through long lashes. "'Twas scarcely gallant."

  Matt caught his breath, trying to ignore the thrumming along his nerves. "I rejoice to see you joyful, Highness."

  "You've never seen me truly so." She looked up, suddenly grave. "You met me at a somber time; yet this wondrous Ring undoes my sorrow."

  "Indeed it does," he breathed, and desire flamed in him again.

  She saw it in his eyes and dropped his hand with a little gasp, stepping away and burying her hands behind her. "Lord Matthew ... My most sincere regrets ... I had not meant..."

  "No," he said, managing to drown the desire under a flood of tenderness and smiling. "Of course not."

  She turned away, confused. "A princess cannot think of love. She marries whom she must, for purposes of state. So, as I grew, I hardened my heart and learned to think of men and women alike, as people only. I disdained in any way to attract the male eye -- until this night. For which, I repent."

  "I don't." Matt drew a long breath. "Not for a moment, Princess. I'm still whole."

  "You are," she said gravely; and, for a moment, there was almost awe in her eyes. "And I think I may begin to realize, Lord Matthew, what strength that required."

  Matt stared, poleaxed by the compliment.

  She turned to- him, lifting her head and throwing her shoulders back, once again every inch a queen. She took his hand, but the warmth in her eyes was only friendship again. "I thank you for that strength, Lord Wizard; f
or I think you could have used my playfulness, this night, against me."

  "Yes," he murmured, cursing his own gallantry. Idiot! Chump!

  You blew your big chance!

  She leaned closer, her voice lowered, husky. "But I thank you more for letting me know, this night, the taste of my own womanhood, by your gallantry-for I'll flatter myself to think it was sincere."

  "Oh, it was," Matt breathed. "Believe. It was."

  She laughed, leaning away, coy for a moment again, then sobered with a sudden completeness that spoke of will power. "I do believe it, and I thank you deeply; but we must turn away from each other now, to our cold beds of turf. Yet if you were tempted here, be certain I was, also, and you cannot know how sorely."

  "I might." Matt swallowed. "It will be a cold and lonely night."

  "I think not." Her face lit with sudden warmth again. "I'll have dreams for company, warm and comforting-for I know I'm a woman now."

  She leaned forward, reaching out almost shyly to touch his cheek. Then she was gone, gliding away over the turf toward her horse, to fetch her cloak and find some softer ground for sleeping.

  Matt sighed and turned away, trying to summon the self-anger to regret his self-control-but found he couldn't. In fact, he felt a pleasant glow of self-esteem.

  "What do you, Wizard?"

  Matt looked down at the singing voice and saw the spot of brilliant light hovering near him. "Hiya, Max."

  "Max?" The Demon sounded wary. "What has caused this foolishness?"

  "Women," Matt said, grinning. "I'll never understand 'em."

  "Why, how is this? They cannot differ greatly from you; they're of your species."

  "Uh, that's a bit of a misconception." Matt pulled up a rock and sat down. "There's a certain contrariness to them, Max, and even more to our relationships with them."

  "Indeed!" The Demon sounded extremely interested. "Explain this, Wizard!"

  "As far as I can." Matt grinned. "Let's take Alisande, for example. She's a princess, see, and I'm a commoner-but an interesting one. You see..."