Janela got out the stone box we’d found on the island and held it over the recess. It was the same size and shape. For a moment I thought she was going to place the box into it and I became alarmed, my heart quickening, palms perspiring as I recalled the mysterious and intoxicating incident on the island; an intoxication that both attracted and frightened me.
“Don’t,” I said.
Janela looked at me. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Something will happen if you do,” I said. “I’m not sure what. But I don’t think we’ll be pleased.”
Janela didn’t question me and to my relief she put the box away. Then she closed her eyes and stood very still for a long time.
Finally she opened them, saying, “You were right to warn me, Amalric. The Queen’s witch used this room for her magic. Perhaps even to charge the box with whatever sorcery she intended.”
“Is our box the same one?” I asked. “Or, its twin?”
“The same, I think,” Janela said. “If so, the witch must have returned to her homeland and made a holy place on the island to keep it safe in case it needed to be used again.”
I licked dry lips, not wanting to ponder long on what that use might be. Janela must have known something of my feelings for she gave me a quick kiss, then beckoned me out of the witch’s room and down the long corridor.
We walked along it for nearly an hour, Janela whirling the firebeads over her head every now again to cause the ancient lights to bloom and the shadows to retreat like an army that had lost heart. We came to other doors and other corridors but Janela barely glanced at them — staying close to the sorcerous trail she’d sniffed out.
Then the corridor sallied out into a vaulted chamber with mighty double doors on the far side. The metal of those doors was inscribed with the crown of a king. As we approached them I felt suddenly cold as if a draft were blowing beneath — although I felt no disturbance in the air.
Janela paused at the doors. She felt the metal, put her ear against it as if listening.
“This is it,” she said, low.
She stepped back and flung her arms wide. The doors swung swiftly open, booming loudly as they jarred against the walls. She took a few paces forward, whirling the beads and the great room beyond those doors burst into light.
We entered and found ourselves in the court chamber of King Farsun.
I could see the twin thrones where he and Queen Monavia had reclined in the dancer’s scene. I could see the white stone platform where she’d danced, the pit where the musicians had played — and on one side the boxed seats where the demon king had watched and lusted.
Cobwebs and clots of dust made a ghostly curtain over every object in the room. They cloaked the thrones and chairs and small round refreshment tables where goblets and plates still sat. Two enormous banquet tables rested in one corner and they were still covered with mummified and dust-covered food. There were whole roasted animals set on tarnished trenchers of rare metals, tiered cakes decorated with confectionery figurines, platters of what had once been delicacies but were now lumps of gray and black stone.
In many places tree roots had burst through the vaulted ceiling and walls, then continued on through the stone floors. The roots were thick and latticed together in some areas, forming veined canopies of cobwebs and feathery shoots.
We walked toward the thrones in silence, intimidated by the spectral scene.
There was a bejeweled goblet lying at the foot of King Farsun’s throne. Janela went to it and picked it up. She stood quite still for a moment, then said:
“This is where the King died.”
She sniffed at the goblet as if there would be an odor still remaining after all this time.
“Was he poisoned?” I asked.
Janela nodded, yes, then indicated the goblet. “But not by anything in this.”
She set it on the seat of the throne. She went to the dancer’s platform, circling it a few times. Then she stepped out a few paces, paused, glanced down at the floor, then grimaced as if the ghost of what she saw there had touched her greatly. Janela continued on until she came to the demon king’s viewing box. She opened the gate set into the low wall, revealing several gilded chairs. She sat in the chair I knew to be King Ba’land’s, shut the gate, then leaned an elbow on it, staring out at the dancer’s platform.
After awhile she exited and came back to me, but her brow was furrowed and her eyes glazed in thought.
Her brow cleared. “I think I know what happened, here,” she said. Then the frown returned. “But I don’t know how it could have happened.”
She looked around the room, staring here and there, twitching with sorcerous energy as she probed with all her power. She became pale as the blood drained from her face and suddenly she started to sag as she called on more reserves. I thought she was going to collapse and rushed to her. I embraced her and I could almost feel her energy draining away. I became alarmed.
“Janela!” I shouted.
She shuddered at my shout.
A moment later I could sense her strength returning. She straightened, pushing gently away from me.
“Now I know the how, Amalric,” she said, voice quite weak. “And as quickly we can we’d better tell the Prince.”
With that she collapsed into a faint.
* * * *
The next day, while Janela rested I sought an audience with the Prince. I did not tell him all that had occurred for Janela insisted knowledge of things such as our possession of the magical box should remain a secret.
“It’s a wizard’s natural caution,” she said. “We always like to hold at least a few things back — if not all. More to the point, however, is we don’t want to alert the demons. Oh, they’ll know something is up — if they don’t already, and they’ll learn soon enough some of what I plan. But the more I can keep secret the better our chances of surprising them.”
She sipped the frothy elixir she’d prepared to restore her vitality, then said, “Besides, there is still much to know about that box. I want to study it at my leisure, with many safeguards in place. Not only for the reasons you think.
“If you recall, my dear Amalric, we still have King Azbaas’ demon inside. When we let him out I assure you he won’t be a happy fellow.”
With those cautions I approached the Prince and told him enough to convince him Janela had made an important discovery. And that if the discovery were put to a proper use it might turn the demon tide.
It took Janela two days to recover from her ordeal and a little over a week to prepare for her demonstration. A fat purse convinced the tavern owner to close his doors to the public and take a holiday, while Janela had the floor removed and the bath chamber door opened for easier access to the underground palace.
When all was ready the Prince summoned the wisest wizards as well as the city’s most important men and women and bade them to attend Janela’s demonstration. He urged his father to come as well but the old king said he would have nothing to do with such foolishness.
“The very idea,” he was reported to have said, “that a barbarian magi — and a woman to boot — should instruct our learned wizards is ludicrous to the extreme.”
But the Prince was so impassioned that Ignati at least didn’t forbid it. He called his son a goosecap and said the lesson in humiliation he would learn might serve to temper his judgment when he assumed the throne.
When the day came for Janela’s demonstration, however, I saw that the King’s attitude had crept into the gathering that assembled outside the tavern. There were cynical mutterings and much rolling of eyes as Janela and I led them through the bath chamber door and retraced our steps to King Farsun’s ancient court chamber.
During the journey Lord Tobray and Lord Vakram were the most vocal in their complaints and made the greatest faces whenever Janela spoke. Tobray, who after all was Chief Wizard and King Ignati’s closest advisor, didn’t surprise me. Vakram, however, did. Although he’d at first raised objections to our
training the Tyrenian forces he’d reverted to his old hail fellow self once that training got underway. Moreover he’d made no objection when I’d put Janela’s request before Prince Solaros. But now that I thought on it I recalled he also hadn’t said anything in favor of it either.
The comments and childish grimaces ceased the moment we entered the court chamber. The men and women stared in awe at the ghostly tableau. Amazed glances took in the remains of the banquet, which looked as if it had been interrupted in the middle of the feast.
They gawked at the thrones and the upturned goblet which Janela had replaced precisely as she’d found it.
But their ill-humor sparked when Janela asked them to be seated at the edge of the court chamber in chairs she’d had provided; and grew into full flame when they saw the assembled objects and magical implements she’d laid out on a long table nearby.
Janela ignored their sour looks and began as if they were all wise and kind and true.
“My lords and ladies,” she said, her voice confident and strong. “Thank you for coming today. I doubly thank you for being so amiable as to listen to a wizard such as I without judging me an ignorant upstart. I know you all have reputations for open and inquisitive minds. It is in that spirit of inquiry and discovery that I approach you with my findings.
“Ours is a demanding and sometimes dangerous art. So dangerous, in fact, it is the reason given for keeping the curious but unblessed by talent at wand’s length. Although it is not an area I will dwell on today I should warn you that in the near future secrecy may not only be impossible but harmful. For if I am correct, every man, woman or child — even improperly trained — can perform and will perform feats which in the past could only be done by men and women such as ourselves.”
There was grumbling and much rude laughter at this last comment.
“I suppose the street sweeper will dispose of pig dung with a finger snap,” Vakram said to his neighbor, loudly enough for all to hear and to spur further laughter. “He’ll turn it to gold and then he’ll no longer sweep our streets but retire to a villa which he’ll conjure up with another snap.”
Tobray, as scoffing as the others, was at least manful enough to direct his remarks at Janela.
“We’ve all heard such nonsense before,” he said, to rumble of agreement from the others. “The fact of the matter is the gods, for reasons we cannot fathom, bless only a few with sorcerous talent. Even then it is in varying degrees. A market witch can cure the warts on a cow’s udder. I on the other hand can stop — or create — a plague of those blemishes.”
“Without delving too deeply into your belief in the source of such ability,” Janela replied, “I will accept the remainder of your statement as law, not theory. Some are better than others. There is a wide gulf between a mere practitioner and a genius such as yourself.”
Tobray coughed at the flattery but I noticed he did not deny it.
“In any human endeavor, there is a difference in ability,” Janela said. “Anyone can pipe a flute. Even make a pleasant sound — with practice and training, of course. But few can claim the ability to beguile us like a master musician. When I said all could perform sorcery I did not mean they would be able to do so with equal ability.
“And talent or genius aside, who would want to? Not everyone would give up a normal life with normal loves and simple pleasures that we have denied ourselves.”
When she said that, I thought of Gamelan, the Evocator who had befriended Rali, and how he’d confessed he’d been forced to give up the love of his life for magic, and how bitterly he’d resented it the rest of his days.
“But as I said,” Janela continued, “that is not subject of my remarks today. It is only one of many logical outcomes. I think if you will only give me a fair hearing you will eventually agree.”
“Very well, my Lady Greycloak,” Tobray said. “You shall have it. Carry on, if you please.”
Despite his diplomatic words I noted his features were hard with doubt.
“As you all know,” Janela said, “it was my ancestor’s theory that all things obey the same laws, and that in a manner of speaking all things are created through similar means and even with some similarities in content. It is the arrangement and structure of these things that make the difference.”
She smiled at Vakram. “There very well could be gold in pig shit,” she said. “It depends on what that pig ate. But there can’t be pig shit in gold unless you frequent a very bad jeweler, for gold is pure in itself.”
Vakram’s neighbor laughed, drawing a scowl.
“But even gold, pure as it is, can be broken down further. Using magic its particles can be released — although I don’t think you’d want to do so casually. Besides the financial loss, my calculations show that such a division would unleash a terrible force.”
“Come now, my Lady,” Tobray broke in. “Gold has no force other than what I impart.” He drew off a gold bracelet and tossed it to her. “Such as when I exercise my arm to throw it to you.”
Janela caught the bracelet. She held it up high for all to see, turning this way and that as if it should be of the most absorbing importance.
“You saw him throw it?” she asked them all.
And everyone agreed they did.
“Lord Tobray has just demonstrated quite ably several natural forces at play,” she said. “One was the force he imparted to the object. The second was the disturbance the object made as it moved through the air. The third was its fall as it approached me. The fourth, the force I absorbed when I retrieved it.”
Tobray made an impatient noise. “Yes, yes. We’ve all heard of your illustrious ancestor’s theories on such matters. Some of us have even read them and some of our younger members have wasted valuable time in experimentation.”
A few youthful faces in the audience ducked in embarrassment or looked stubbornly defiant, depending on their natures.
“Janos Greycloak, for instance,” Tobray continued, “said light may have substance. This may be so. But what can one do with such knowledge — if it is indeed true? I cannot eat it. I cannot form it into a tool. So what earthly use can it have besides lighting our way or disturbing our sleep?
“Earthly use?” Janela said. “Why, there are many. But I won’t take your time with such an accounting. For it is the unearthly use of it that I want you to consider... “As I shall demonstrate.”
She held up the bracelet again. Then she picked up a goblet and dropped the bracelet inside. We heard a satisfying rattle. Janela waved a hand and the goblet glowed.
“Now it is light.”
She shook the goblet and we heard nothing. Then she picked up another tumbler, held it a foot or more beneath the first, then poured.
The wizards gasped as light flowed like water from one goblet to the next. Some of the liquid even spilled to the floor and made glowing droplets. Janela took an experimental sip from the light-filled tumbler. Her brows arced as if in pleasant surprise.
She wiped a faint phosphorescent trace from her upper lip, saying, “Why, it tastes like... light!”
Janela gave the goblet to Tobray who examined it critically. He too took a sip and amazement crossed his features. Then he passed it on for the others to examine and sample.
“It was good you gave me gold, my Lord,” Janela said. “For that is the metal light most resembles. It would have not been so easy to concentrate using something else. A feather, for instance.”
Vakram snorted. “A parlor trick, nothing more,” he said. “Any of us could do it with a little practice.”
“I said you could from the start, my Lord,” Janela said.
There was laughter, as others remembered Janela had spoken of common folk. Vakram flushed.
“Still,” he said. “It’s sorcery. Nothing more.”
“Yes,” Janela agreed. “Nothing more — except a demonstration of magical force behaving like an ordinary liquid and obeying ordinary laws. I tilted the goblet and it had no choice but to pour.
> “As for the trick being simple sorcery, that is only partly true. The trick required energy, although I did not draw on the power required from the usual sources. As an aside, you might have noted I made no chant, nor did I use any magical ingredients. ”
She looked about the crowd. “Would you all agree that magic requires energy and produces energy — sometimes seeming like more is produced than is drawn?”
There were mutters and nods of agreement.
“Would you also agree that you draw that energy from... elsewhere... which is why more force may be displayed than is easily observable to the casual viewer?”
Some frowned but many repeated the nods and murmurs of acceptance, especially the younger wizards Tobray had scorned.
“And that energy you use is finite and sometimes when you cast your mind to that... other place... too soon after your first action there is not enough left to repeat the spell. So you must cast... farther, so to speak, to find more?”
Fewer still agreed. But those who did beamed as if in sudden understanding.
“I won’t you ask to take my word for these things,” Janela said. “That is against the very nature of my great-grandfather’s beliefs. All assumptions must be tested and tested again. Afterwards, if you are interested, I will show you how I conducted my experiments, and where I found my insights — many of which are from your own archives.”
When she said that, many who seemed in doubt relaxed. Tobray was in this group. It heartened me to see he at least had a practical mind and sound instincts.
“What did you mean, my Lady,” Tobray asked, “when you said you used a different energy source for the bracelet trick?”
“Why, I got it from the power produced when you threw and I retrieved,” Janela said.
“That’s not possible!” Vakram snapped.
He seemed worried, although I couldn’t make out why. He hadn’t a reputation as a wizard who proposed ideas that were worthy of threat.
Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) Page 45
