I turned toward the bishop and stopped, too awestruck to be able to ask him how he had learned to do such a convincing imitation of a saint.
He looked like himself again, pushing back his hair with one hand and starting to smile, a slow smile that worked its way up from his mouth to his eyes. “I think this is the ‘other side’ you asked about, Daimbert,” he commented as calmly as if we had been sitting in his book-lined study. “We don’t have the glasses of wine, however. And I am sorry to have lost that crucifix; the duchess’s daughter gave it to me.”
Theodora flopped back in the damp grass. “For the rest of my life,” she announced, “I’m going to be the most perfect person you can imagine. I do not want to end up in Hell.”
“We must all do the best we can,” said the bishop, sober now, “but we cannot make our own salvation. We are all still miserable sinners, and must hope for the unmerited mercy of Christ. For example—” He paused, his eyes distant, but just when I thought he was not going to say anything else he went on.
“For example, I have spent my entire adult life as a priest fighting temptation, but I still had to turn my back on the demon for fear that he would make me an offer, and that I would find it too tempting. If he had promised me a successful rule as bishop of the great City in return for my soul, I would have had to reject not just his offer but the election of the cathedral chapter there, for my episcopacy would always have been tainted in myeyes. Yet as soon as I thought this, I knew that I did want the office, and that it was tempting me even without the active intervention of a demon. Therefore—”
I interrupted him with a laugh, suddenly feeling the weight of the fears of the last few months lifting from me. The hand I had cut on the bridge into Hell was completely healed. We’ve done it, I thought. We’ve done it! “Don’t make it any more complicated than you have to,” I told the bishop. “We did make it through Hell and through a demon’s best blandishments.”
The forces of darkness had tried to tempt me with the leadership of the school, and I had not been tempted. Which meant—which meant that I could choose freely, knowing that if I became the head of the school it was certainly not from a selfish desire for power. The teachers wanted me (or at least a majority did); both the Master and Zahlfast had died assuming I would be an excellent leader; and after Hell the burdens of administrative responsibility would have to be trivial.
“Tell you what, Joachim,” I said. “If I become Master of the school after all, and they put me in charge of rebuilding because no one else wants the job, you can keep me company by becoming bishop of the City. Theodora, you’ll have to come too, to help me keep track of our daughter. I think it’s well past time her formal education in wizardry began.”
“I shall always regret,” said Joachim a little sadly, “not continuing on all the way through Hell, to see if the visions are recorded truly, and that when one reaches the devil’s iron throne, frozen in eternal ice, there is a way to climb up to the gates of Heaven. It might have been my only opportunity to see those shining gates. And I now know, just from the momentary sensation of feeling absolute good working through me, how much I shall have lost.”
Theodora rolled over on her stomach to look at him. “Father Joachim,” she said sternly, but with a smile playing around her lips, “I realize this may come as a shock to you, but everyone who knows you knows that you’ll be going to Heaven.”
“But if you’re terribly disappointed,” I suggested, “you could always start the trip all over again, down in the cellars of Yurt. That reminds me—we’d better get the cover back on that hole before anyone gets in by mistake.”
Joachim shook his head, slowly starting to smile again. “I am not impatient for a second glimpse of Hell. I think I can wait.”
“In the meantime,” said Theodora, sitting up, “what are we going to do with Elerius?”
“I guess we can’t really leave him trapped in there to starve,” I said regretfully. “I’ll come back with Whitey and Chin this afternoon to get him. I’ve got an idea. But first, I want to see if the castle cook of Yurt has made any cinnamon crullers this morning.”
With Maffi and my two young would-be wizardry assistants, it was remarkably easy lifting the stones off Elerius that afternoon. The last few were tricky, because I didn’t want to risk crushing him as I shifted the slates that had protected him from the rest of the fallen wall, but at last he lay revealed, breathing shallowly.
“I don’t like it that he’s still unconscious,” I said, worried. “The whole purpose is not to kill him. If I really am going to head the school, I have to be as different from him as I can be.”
“Of course he hasn’t recovered consciousness,” said Maffi. “The spell binds him too tightly. Have you not wondered how an Ifrit could survive for centuries inside a bottle, without even eating?”
“Suppose I loosened the spell somewhat,” I said thoughtfully, “so that a room, say, was all bound by it, and he was in the middle. Would he recover consciousness then? Would he need to eat?”
Maffi never liked to suggest he didn’t know something. “That should allow him to recover,” he said slowly, “without time truly passing for him. I can contact Kazalrhun, if you like, but he will tell you the same.”
“He’s in Xantium, and we’re here,” I said shortly. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
We put Elerius’s inert form on the magic carpet and flew him across Yurt, from the ruined castle to the valley of theCranky Saint. Here, the heavy local concentration of inherent magical forces, left from the earth’s creation, should make easier what I was going to try. The valley was exactly as it had been when we took my dragon’s teeth warriors out of the cave. There had been entirely too many reminders of dragons lately, I thought. Around the sacred spring, bushes still put out green leaves, and the air was soft.
Ignoring the scandalized looks from the two young wizards, I knelt before the shrine of the Cranky Saint for a moment: thanking him for his help, asking him to help me just once more, and reminding him that, if Elerius escaped, he might take out his fury for being deprived of his kingdom on Hadwidis, the saint’s spiritual daughter. The hermit appeared from behind a tree and smiled benevolently as we heaved Elerius into the cave.
“Now’s your chance,” I told Whitey and Chin. “Show me those illusions that last a very long time. Make them good.”
They had already guessed what I wanted and were full of ideas. Maffi entered into the spirit of the activity, adding several automatons he fashioned on the spot, and then had to cover with illusion so that it was not immediately obvious they were made of nothing but stone and branch. Whitey and Chin were especially proud of an illusion that looked just like me, and they kept snickering every time I turned my back on them. When they had their illusions in place, I turned on the magical augmenter, concealed it with illusion so that it looked like a hat stand in the corner, and set it to keep both illusions and automata going indefinitely.
The sun had set, and a cold wind was whistling into the cave when we finished at last. I broke the spell that imprisoned Elerius, a more difficult process than I had expected, and which ended up requiring use of the golden signet for the final steps. He took a long, shuddering breath as though about to recover consciousness. The three of us darted out quickly. And both with the words of the spell Levi had taught me, and with the imprint of Solomon’s signet itself, I sealed up the cave. Then each of us added magic locks, sealed with our palm prints, for good measure.
The first stars were appearing in the thin slice of sky we could see over the valley as we emerged from the cave mouth. The magic carpet was twitching, eager to be off again. But I looked back for a moment, sincerely hoping I would never have to see Elerius again in the land of the living. The next world, however, I decided I could deal with. If I ended up in Heaven, I would be so happy that even he could not lessen my joy, and if I ended up in Hell, well, I knew from experience that there were even worse things there than he.
“In essence ti
me itself will stop for him,” I told Theodora that night, sitting in front of the fireplace in my chambers with her head on my shoulder. I had eaten a late supper off a tray after returning to the castle, and the fire provided a focus of warmth and light while outside the darkness grew cold. “But Elerius will never know it. If those young wizards’ illusions work the way they’re supposed to, he’ll imagine a whole rich life for himself, probably including killing me, rebuilding the school, and dominating the world. I tried to impress on my assistants the necessity of keeping the spot secret, but I don’t think even thirty good wizards acting together could break in there—at least notwithout Solomon’s seal.”
“You’ve been far more merciful to him than he would ever have been to you,” she said.
“I’m just doing what you said you were going to do yourself,” I said, giving her a squeeze. “I’m being the most perfect person imaginable. If you’re going to end up in Heaven, I certainly want to be there with you, and returning good for evil strikes me as an appropriate way to start.”
“Remember that,” she said with a chuckle, “when you try to make your first act as Master of the school the admission of a girl, and all the other teachers start behaving obnoxiously toward you.”
I kissed her. “You’ll be there to help me, you’ll recall,” I said, “both to remind me to turn the other cheek, and also to remind the other teachers that if they wantto dump all the responsibility on me, then Antonia’s part of the package.”
“Speaking of reminding,” she said, “I meant to tell you. There was a telephone call from the City late this afternoon.”
“They won’t even let me finish taking care of Elerius before they think of something else they want me to do?”
“No. I think this was more in the way of warning. Kazalrhun showed up in the City. He’s planning to fly on his own magic carpet up to Yurt first thing in the morning.”
I shook my head. “I’ve always suspected Maffi of sending messages back to him, even though he’s denied it. Well, the mage is just barely too late for all the excitement—or maybe he deliberately planned it that way.”
“I don’t think so, Daimbert. They put him on to speak to me himself—he congratulated me on our marriage, which he hadn’t known about. But I don’t believe he is coming out of idle curiosity. In fact,” and she leaned back against my chest, “he said he felt it was imperative that the greatest mage the East has ever known—that’s him, of course—should consult with the wise and mighty keeper of King Solomon’s seal, the new leader of western magic. In case you didn’t know, I’m afraid that’s you.”
SMcG
Table of Contents
Part One The Master
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Two Naurag
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Three Eelerius
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Four The Funeral
I
II
III
IV
Part Five Xantium
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Six The Ifrit
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Seven Armies
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Eight The Cranky Saint
l
II
III
IV
V
Part Nine The Princess
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Ten Dragons
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Eleven * Hell
I
II
III
IV
V
Table of Contents
Part One The Master
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Two Naurag
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Three Eelerius
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Four The Funeral
I
II
III
IV
Part Five Xantium
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Six The Ifrit
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Seven Armies
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Eight The Cranky Saint
l
II
III
IV
V
Part Nine The Princess
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Ten Dragons
I
II
III
IV
V
Part Eleven * Hell
I
II
III
IV
V
Is This Apocalypse Necessary? Page 44
