So his calculations on how long it would take had come out the same as mine. “What do you mean, he is not done?” I demanded.
Maffi lifted a muddy arm. “Look.”
Again streaking the sky, the Ifrit had reached the castle. I wished desperately for a far-seeing spell and suddenly found that I had one. School magic was working here again.
Hadwidis, I thought, was not going to like it at all if the Ifrit destroyed her castle—and neither might the Cranky Saint. I held my breath, waiting to see the towers torn from the castle like a toy ripped apart by a peevish child. Even with a reliable spell working for me again, it was hard to see through the dimness, but the brightly-lit windows of the castle stayed solidly in place. Instead, I saw the Ifrit’s fiery shape abruptly shrink and pour in through one of the windows. The castle vibrated with a note like an enormous bell, swaying as though floating on a wave rather than built on solid rock. And then all the windows and doors were flung open.
The battle that had been raging at the castle’s feet ceased. Had I been that close to the castle I would have been in total panic, but the blowing horns sounded as though they were giving rational orders. Rational orders to get as far away from there as possible. In a second all the armies turned, Paul’s and for all I knew Elerius’s men as well, and galloped back toward the royal encampment at a furious pace.
The thundering hooves would be on us in just a few moments. With reserves of terror-driven strength I thought I had exhausted hours before, I half-lifted, half-dragged the royal family as fast as I could toward the safety of the tents and the still-burning campfires. Maffi on their other side helped pull them along.
“Did you know something like this was going to happen?” I shouted at him. “Were you experimenting with the Ifrit’s bottle while I was gone?” But he seemed not to hear.
I turned back toward the castle once I was sure Hadwidis had recovered enough to be in charge again. With my far-seeing spell I could see people pouring both in and out of the castle’s gaping doors—mounted knights jostled wildly to enter, but emerging were two dozen wizards.
I shouted to them, my voice magically amplified to boom over the broken and muddy field like the sound of the doomsday trumpet. “Get away from there! Escape while you still have your lives! Come to the camp, and you will be pardoned! It is I, Daimbert, who calls you!”
As long as I was supposed to have returned from the dead, I thought with a small smile, I might as well get some use out of my supernatural status. The next moment I had to lift myself into the air with the last of my strength, to avoid the army rushing toward me. I tried unsuccessfully to find Paul in the great confusion of armored men and horses racing below me. For all I knew they too thought they were obeying the call I had sent toward the young wizards.
Hovering, I looked again toward the castle and thought I could see the wizards, strung out in an untidy line, moving nervously across the broken, empty fields. Good enough. If they had once turned their backs on Elerius, they would not suddenly run again to him.
But where was Elerius, and how was he reacting to the Ifrit’s destruction of all his defenses? For that matter, why hadn’t the Ifrit just started killing everyone in his path the moment he broke free of the bottle?
It was all far too confusing for me to work out in my present state. But as if in answer to my question, just as I was ready to turn away and drop the far-seeing spell, light flared at the top window of a tower—Elerius’s study. And out through the window shot the Ifrit, his body swelling to its normal enormous size the moment he was through the opening. In one great green hand he held Elerius.
And he threw him: threw him like a boy throwing a ball but far faster, far higher, so that he shot up and away and disappeared into the night sky.
The Ifrit turned, slapped his hands together as though satisfied, and flew directly toward me.
This was it, then. At least I had gotten Elerius out of the castle before I died, so maybe the teachers in the school would have some luck now tracking him down and capturing him.
I closed my eyes for a quick prayer and opened them again. But the Ifrit was now aimed in a direction that would, by a small measure, miss me. My own despairing readiness for death gave way to new horror, as I realized that he was not in fact after me. He was instead heading for the camp.
He and I reached it at the same moment. The camp was in complete chaos, as the men and horses who had fled from the Ifrit suddenly found him among them. His giant bare feet set down on top of tents as men dove for safety, and he strode among them, avoiding the fires but nothing else.
“I have fulfilled your commands, Mistress!” his voice boomed above me. “And I have come back for my bottle.”
Mistress! Who could he be talking to? But in a second I spotted the person standing in front of him, not substantially taller than one of his green toes. I should have known.
It was Antonia. “Have you really fulfilled all my commands?”
my daughter demanded, looking up with her braids tossed back over her shoulders. Tucked under one arm was the bronze cucumber-shaped bottle in which the Ifrit had been imprisoned. “You said I would get two wishes, and so far I don’t think I’ve gotten more than one.”
The Ifrit bent to scoop her up in one gigantic hand. She balanced easily, holding onto his thumb. “You may have freed me, little Mistress,” he grumbled, “but you cannot change our agreement so easily! First, I destroyed all those undead warriors. That was one wish. Then I nullified the spells of the chief mage in the castle and expelled him from it. That was two wishes. And finally, I accomplished all this without killing anyone, not even the trickster mage who imprisoned me, whom I had sworn before God to rip into tiny shreds, so slowly that he would live far beyond the normal short span of you mortals, but so painfully that he would pray each day for death. That is three wishes.”
“That wasn’t a third wish,” said Antonia briskly, her voice high and tiny compared to the Ifrit’s. “It was a condition of the first two wishes. Now that you mention it, I guess you really did grant me two wishes, but I still see no reason to give you the bottle.”
The furrows in the Ifrit’s massive forehead deepened. “And I see no reason to refrain from killing the trickster mage, who I see is conveniently handy.”
I would have yelled up to Antonia except that my voice didn’t seem to be working. Besides, I didn’t know what I should yell. I found Solomon’s golden seal in my pocket and considered brandishing it, but it wasn’t going to do a lot of good unless the Ifrit were already inside a bottle, which he most indubitably was not.
Antonia considered coolly. “All right. How about if we make the agreement this way. You grant me three wishes—the three you’ve already given me—the first two in return for freeing you from the bottle, the third in return for letting you keep it. But remember! Before I’ll hand the bottle over, I’ll have to have some assurance that you won’t kill the wizard or anyone else here!”
“I have lived,” the Ifrit growled, his voice as deep as the grumble of an earthquake, “since the earth was first formed, and yet you, a mortal whose life I could crush out in a second, dare ask me for assurances?”
“Yes,” said Antonia. Her voice had gone up an octave, but she did not hesitate.
The Ifrit stamped one gigantic foot, scattering the soldiers who had started creeping closer, and brought his cupped hand up toward his face. A gigantic yellow eyeball glared at Antonia from only a few feet away. “I hope you are not next to tell me that you are from Yurt.”
“Caelrhon and Yurt both,” she said, pressing herself back against his fingers, as far from that eye as possible. “Aren’t you supposed to protect and not harm people from Yurt?” The Ifrit growled again, and his fingers twitched as though he really was about to crush her. But instead, after a second that seemed to last for hours, he nodded his massive head.
“You are my mistress no longer. But I swear to you on the dread name of Solomon, son of David, that I shall not slay the trickst
er mage with the slow death he so fully deserves.”
“Good,” said Antonia. “After all, he’s from Yurt too.”
Slowly he lowered her back to the ground. From the corner of my eye I saw the young wizards who had been working with Elerius straggling into camp. Antonia hopped from the Ifrit’s hand, then slapped the bronze bottle into it. “Good to meet you!” she called up, on her best manners. The Ifrit did not return the courtesy. Instead, with a final great stamp of his foot, he launched himself into the sky, and shot away in a fiery blaze, streaking eastward like a comet across the dark sky until we could see him no more.
Theodora and I reached Antonia at the same time and dropped to our knees beside her. With four arms wrapped tight around her, she looked from one of us to the other. “Now aren’t you glad I’m here?” she asked proudly.
III
All I wanted to do was sleep. Even asking Antonia how she had possibly been able to master the Ifrit could wait, though my bones felt like water as I thought about how close we had come to having an infuriated Ifrit destroy this entire corner of the Western Kingdoms. But the young wizards were all looking at me, their eyes round in the firelight. I noted that Evrard, Royal Wizard of Caelrhon, was among them.
I pushed myself to my feet with Theodora’s help. Joachim appeared beside me and supported me with a strong arm under mine. The knights of the royal armies made a great circle around us.
To my enormous relief I spotted King Paul among them, apparently unhurt. I had lost track of Hadwidis and her mother and brother, but they must be back in the crowd somewhere. With the bishop on one side of me and Theodora on the other, and Antonia standing proudly in front, I beckoned the young wizards forward. They hesitated, some shame-faced, some trembling in fear. Evrard spoke at last, in a shaky voice unlike his normal good-natured tone. He had been my friend for years, and he seemed the only one of the wizards worried about me as well as about themselves.
“Are you—are you dead, Daimbert?”
At this point I probably looked a lot like a walking corpse. But I shook my head. “I am alive as you”—surely something of an overstatement—”and indeed was never killed by the dragon.” Elerius must not have told the wizards who had joined him that he knew my death was faked—an indication, I thought, of how little he trusted them, or still feared my potential influence. “But I would not be here were it not for Saint Eusebius.” Better give credit where it was due.
Evrard looked back uneasily at the rest of the wizards, but he was the most senior one there, and the rest of them shoved and nudged him. “Well,” he said with false heartiness after a moment, “we knew the Master intended you to head up the school after him, but Elerius told us that the old man must have been losing his judgment in his final months. Elerius was clearly mistaken if you’ve got an Ifrit and a saint working for you!”
“Also two witches,” provided Antonia, politely including her mother in her boast.
“I’m sorry, Daimbert!” Evrard continued, his tone more genuine. “I must say I never thought of you in years past as a particularly good wizard. That’s why I thought I’d better follow Elerius. I know now I was wrong!” he added as two of the other wizards poked him in the back. “Especially since you’ve overcome him! Is it too late to join you?”
They were all looking at me expectantly now. My next duty, I realized, was to find a diplomatic way to reintegrate these wizards into organized magic, in a manner that would make them realize the extent of their folly in allowing Elerius to create a rift in the school, which had almost led to a new outbreak of the Black Wars: only worse, because instead of stopping the fighting the wizards would have been abetting it. I also had to find a way to make the teachers of the school receive these properly penitent young wizards back, to start healing the rift Elerius had created. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. If I were the kind of wizard the old Master thought I was, I would have been able to start the diplomacy at once, in spite of my exhaustion. Instead I just shook my head. “You can’t ‘join’ me,” I said, having to force myself to speak above a whisper. “There are no more sides. There is only organized wizardry. You’ll have to be penitent, and you’ll have to ask the forgiveness of the masters of the school. Talk to the bishop. He’ll explain it to you.”
Theodora kept me vertical as I staggered off toward my tent—fortunately one of the ones the Ifrit’s giant feet had missed. Whitey popped out of the crowd to say, “We’re telephoning the school now, Master. Do you want to talk to the teachers first, or should we tell them the news ourselves?” But I waved him away, too tired even to correct him for calling me Master.
“I’ve won,” I mumbled as I collapsed into the blankets. “I’ve done what the Master wanted me to do after all. I’ve defeated Elerius.”
But as my eyes fell shut the voice in the back of my mind pointed out that I had not in fact defeated him at all. I had separated him from the wizards who were assisting him; I had separated him from his son; and I had driven him from his castle. But the Ifrit had told Antonia that he had not killed anyone, and that must include Elerius.
Hurled violently through the air, landing miles away, once he recovered his wits enough to use a flying spell, he might not have his defenses and his allies but he still had his abilities—and he was always the best wizard of any of us.
At this point, any hesitation about using a demon would be long gone. And the first thing he and his demon would do would be to hunt me down and inflict on me tortures that would make in comparison the Ifrit’s abandoned plans for me seem like a stroll through the flowers of a summer meadow.
“So Maffi helped me,” Antonia explained. She sat on the tent floor beside me while I lay, propped on elbows, in my camp bed. Early morning light came through the canvas.
I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, but it had not been nearly long enough. But if my daughter had not wakened me now evil dreams soon would have.
“Freeing the Ifrit was Maffi’s plan, then?” I prompted, stifling a yawn. Left behind while I went first to create and then to transport my dragons’ teeth warriors, Maffi was much too active a young man to have let enforced idleness drain his initiative.
“Of course not,” said Antonia firmly. “It was mine. He explained to me about the bronze bottle when we found it here, though I must say he didn’t make it clear enough just how scary the Ifrit would be.”
“So you were scared?” I asked with a smile. “To me you looked perfectly confident, standing there in the Ifrit’s hand ordering him around.”
She gave me a grin. “Well, I had to make him think I wasn’t afraid. It’s the same as with dogs. But I was terrified! My insides hurt so much I could hardly breathe, there at the end!”
“You and me both,” I agreed. Chiding her for irresponsible behavior didn’t seem to be working as well as I had intended. Maybe Theodora would be firmer. It had been just about forty-eight hours, I realized, between when I swore to Elerius to give him a two-day truce and when Antonia had released the Ifrit. Elerius might imagine I had done so myself—if it gave him reason to worry, wherever he was, so much the better.
“We could hear the Ifrit even inside hisbottle,” Antonia continued, “cursing both you and the mage Kazalrhun. That’s why, when I decided we might be able to use him against Elerius, I knew I had to be the one to open the bottle. The Ifrit would know right away that Maffi was Kazalrhun’s pupil, because their magic is the same, but he would never know I was your daughter, because I’m a witch instead of a wizard.”
And Maffi, who was indeed a true pupil of Kazalrhun, would have calculated that even if everything went completely wrong, his chances of escape would be at least marginally improved if someone else had pried the seal off the bottle. My insides went all cold again.
“Anyway,” Antonia went on, “Maffi gave me suggestions on what to say to get the Ifrit’s attention even before I let him out, and exactly what to tell him about breaking Elerius’s defenses—including being very sure that the Ifrit knew I did
n’t want anybody dead. But he wasn’t with me when I went ahead and opened the bottle, so I had to improvise the part about destroying those warriors. That’s why the Ifrit was able to get me confused for a minute over how many wishes he had granted me.”
“If he’s got his bottle now,” I said slowly, “then it’s going to be very hard for any other mage or wizard to imprison him again.”
Antonia nodded vigorously. “That’s what he told me. He didn’t like it in the bottle. He told me that even before I let him out. It must be awful for someone so big to be squeezed into such a little space. It’s a good thing I realized I could use the poor thing against Elerius, or I might have had to let him out anyway.”
I closed and opened my eyes, taking a deep breath. There didn’t seem to be much helpful to say to this. Maybe Elerius had been right about one thing, and it was time to start Antonia’s real wizardry training. She had the tricks of magic down just fine. Now all she needed was the sense of consequences and responsibility. And the school had managed to teach even me some of that, though I still sometimes had doubts about Whitey and Chin. Maybe now that I had weakened Elerius the masters of the school would be able to do the rest. Once they had captured him—especially if it took the demonology experts to do so—I would have a quiet conversation with them about admitting their first girl student ever.
The tent flap was pushed back, and the bishop put his head in. “I thought I heard voices,” he said with a smile. “If you are awake, Daimbert, there are several people here who would like to speak with you.” It didn’t look like sneaking in an extra hour’s sleep was an option. I sat up, started trying to straighten the torn and filthy clothes I had slept in, and decided it was hopeless.
“Talk to you later!” said Antonia with a new grin and darted away.
Is This Apocalypse Necessary? Page 33
