My Son, the Wizard

Chapter Nineteen

The ball of light exploded outward to reveal a genie who expanded even as his star had, shooting up to become twenty feet tall, brandishing a battle-ax that was three feet across, booming, “Are you the Wizard Mantrell?”

“Uh… no!” Matt stated with all the assurance he could muster. “Can’t stand the man! Never even heard of him!”

Papa got the idea. “We weren’t there,” he protested, “and even if we were, we didn’t do it!”

“You lie!” He was a very perceptive genie. He swung the battle-ax up over his head two-handed.

“Run, Stegoman!… Papa, no! Wait!”

But Papa had already jumped down, calling, “We must not drag your friend into our own dangers, Matthew! Besides, two smaller targets are harder to hit than one big one!”

Matt cursed and jumped down, then started broken-field running.

“Matthew, no!” Stegoman roared. “I can carry us all to safety!” He started chasing after Matt.

Papa caught on. He started running in zigzags, each zag taking him farther and farther away from the ax.

“Stand still, blast you!” the genie roared. “Or at least stay together!” The huge ax roared down out of the night, but Matt swerved at the last second, and it bit into dirt… way into dirt, which was just as well, because Matt collided with Stegoman. The dragon screeched to a halt, but Matt bounced ten feet.

“Prepare to die!” the genie roared, managing to wrestle his ax free.

“I forbid!” cried a contralto.

Matt scrambled up, staring toward the sky. Sure enough, Lakshmi towered over them, just as tall as the genie.

“I must do as the Master of the Lamp has bidden me, Princess!” the genie protested. “You cannot command me in defiance of its power!” He wrenched his eyes away from her and aimed another blow at Matt.

Matt scurried around to hide behind Lakshmi’s kneecap.

“Son! I taught you never to hide behind a woman!” Papa called.

“You didn’t mean it literally, did you?” Matt called back. “At least, not when she’s this big!”

“Stand aside, Princess.” But the genie lowered his ax. “You must not come between a genie and his appointed task.”

Suddenly, Lakshmi seemed to blaze with feminine allure. “Come, Kamar! Are you a slave, or a free djinni?”

“I have been bonded to a lamp, as you know, Princess.” Kamar swallowed hard, and Matt thought that if his eyes bulged any further, they’d hatch. “I must do as I have been commanded.”

“Perhaps.” Lakshmi took two steps toward him, rolling her hips… and other portions of her anatomy.

“Surely, though, you can tarry a little on your way.”

Matt goggled, too… he’d never known a woman could have voluntary muscular control in quite those sites.

Then he remembered himself and his predicament. He waved to Papa, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, and began to inch away from the confrontation.

Kamar was panting now. “I am a slave! I dare not do as a free djinni would!”

“If you are a slave, it is scarcely your fault,” Lakshmi told him, “and the dalliance need not be great.”

She brushed up against him, head tilted, eyes half-closed, lips half-open. “Or is your lust for blood so great as to dull all other appetites?”

“You try me unfairly,” Kamar protested, but he must have realized this was his one and only chance at a princess of his own kind, because he lowered the ax to the ground, slid one arm around Lakshmi, and buried her lips in his beard.

Matt turned and ran as lightly as possible, glancing back at Papa, who was running flat-out… and the poor princess, who was making so great a sacrifice for him, never mind that Kamar really was fairly handsome, as genies went…

Conscience pricked like a loaded hypodermic, and Matt skidded to a halt. Papa hissed “Run!” as he passed, then circled back. “Don’t waste this one opportunity!”

“I can’t leave the poor thing to make such a huge sacrifice,” Matt said, “and I can’t leave an enemy behind me.” He threw his arms up, gesturing the unwinding of a mummy’s bonds, and recited,

He lowered his arms. Then he spun on his heel and ran.

Behind him, he heard a sucking like a huge suction cup pulled off a wall, then Kamar’s voice shouting in jubilation, “I am free! The lamp no longer commands me! Princess, I worship at your feet! What magic there is in your kiss!”

“Not that sort, certainly,” Lakshmi answered in surprise. “Will you befriend whoever freed you, no matter what your former master commanded?” She emphasized the “former” nicely.

“I will! Oh, thrice blessed be she who has freed me from the shame of that bondage!” cried Kamar.

“Not she but he. Come back, Lord Wizard of Merovence.”

Suddenly, there was no ground beneath Matt’s running feet. Pedaling air frantically, he nonetheless found himself turning and plunging back toward the djinna and her new friend.

“Kamar,” said Lakshmi, “meet your liberator. Wizard, did you not free him even as you did me?”

“Well, not quite the same way.” Matt had carefully left out the part about fanatical loyalty to himself. “But basically, yes.”

“A thousand thanks!” Kamar plucked Matt out of the air and held him in his cupped hands. “I am your friend for life! Whatever you wish, only ask, and it is yours!”

“Thanks.” Matt swallowed, then grinned, trying to put a brave face on it. “I’ll save that favor, if you don’t mind, until I really need it.”

“Only call for Kamar of the Djinn.” But the genie was staring in disbelief. He looked up at Lakshmi.

“What manner of man is this, Princess? Any other would have taken the offer of a wish on the instant, and called for wealth or luxury!”

“He is a most exceptional example of his kind.” Lakshmi didn’t sound completely happy about it. “But since you are freed and no longer a threat to him, Kamar, fare you well.”

“Farewell?” Kamar dropped Matt like a hot potato, eyes showing the misery of learning he’d guessed right the first time. “Do you not still wish me to dally, O Pearl?”

“With you? Be not absurd!” Lakshmi turned away, scooping Matt up, and called back over her shoulder,

“Earn greater fame among the djinn if you would seek to speak to me again!” But she rolled her hips as she went, just to rub it in. Behind her, Kamar groaned.

“Well, you sure know how to motivate males,” Matt called up to her

“Aye, except for the one I wish to move, or the other who would do in his place,” Lakshmi said with a sardonic smile. She leaned down to set Matt on the ground next to Stegoman. Matt felt sheepish “I can’t thank you enough, O Princess.”

“You can,” she said, shrinking down to human size, blazing with every erg of allure she possessed. Matt staggered back, gasping, and Lakshmi’s smile turned bitter. “You can thank me as I wish, but you will not.”

“Well, you know the rules about interspecies dating.”

“I know quite well that it has been done,” she answered tartly, “though rarely, and even more rarely to both partners’ satisfaction. To be plain, your kind lacks endurance, Lord Wizard.”

Matt fought down the urge to prove her wrong. “Well, we intellectuals are apt to be a bit absentminded.”

“Not at all,” Lakshmi countered. “Your mind is entirely too present. Were it absent, your body would do as it wished… and as I wished.” Her smile turned sardonic again. “But since your mind is present, and you will not act upon my desires, then find me some mate worthy of me, mortal man… one who will make me forget you quite. Now, farewell.”

She disappeared suddenly and completely, and reaction made Matt sick and weak inside. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. “Papa maybe we could find some way to break a love spell.”

“Better men than we have sought that cancellation, my son,” Papa sighed, “and have learned that an obsession is far more easily begun than ended. Come now, let us ride.” He clasped Matt’s forearm and braced him as he stood up, then turned away to climb aboard Stegoman.

“They’re okay, Lady Mantrell!” Saul assured her. “Believe me, Matt has done this kind of thing before… four times before, and he’s still in one piece!”

“Yes, but with how much pain?” Mama countered She looked around the royal library, at a loss.

Bookshelves climbed to the ceiling, filled with huge leatherbound parchment volumes. “Certainly there must be something here that can tell us how to protect him!”

“Believe me, milady, the only things that can hurt your son are so thoroughly evil that only a saint or an angel can help him any.” Saul spoke from personal experience. “And he rides under the protection of St. Moncaire, at least. I suspect, being in Ibile, that he also has St. Iago looking out for him.”

“Oh, I have asked the good saint to intercede for him, every night!” Mama said fervently. “If only I could know he is safe!”

“All right, we’ll look again,” Saul said, exasperated. He leaned down over the writing desk and pulled the inkpot over. It was heavy-duty, four inches wide and three high. Saul took off the cover and passed his hand over it three times, muttering,

Slowly, a picture appeared in the small pool. Mama stared “That spell works most amazingly, Saul!”

“You mean it’s amazing that it works,” Saul said with a grimace. “I think it’s only because the magic associates pixels with pixies.”

They saw a dragon gliding low under the morning sun with Matt and Papa on his back. Around them stretched a flat and dusty plain with rows of small trees marking watercourses. “What remarkable transportation!” Mama stared.

“Transportation? That’s a friend, a dragon named Stegoman. You see, Lady Mantrell? He’s alive and well.”

“Yes, but for how long?” Mama frowned. “There must be some aid I can send them.”

Saul forced a smile. “You really don’t believe those silly men can take care of themselves without a wise woman to watch over them, do you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Saul.” Mama sniffed. “I know they’re not silly.” She carefully didn’t comment on the rest of his statement. Saul frowned. He started to say he could see she was planning something, but caught himself in time… Mama’s gaze was so intent that he felt sure she was either working magic, or thinking some up.

“That landscape around them,” Mama said. “What does it look like to you?”

Saul frowned, studying the image for a minute, its flatness, emptiness, the broadness of its reach…

“Nebraska.”

Mama nodded. “I thought so, too. But this is Ibile, not America, so it must be La Mancha.”

Saul gave her a leery glance.

She watched Stegoman’s slow glide for a minute more… and on the horizon ahead, a windmill appeared, its sail turning lazily.

“No doubt of it,” Mama said. “It is La Mancha.” Saul caught his breath, then recited, almost without thinking,

Mama looked up, nodding, pleased. “So you know of him. Yes, Saul. I think that, in this world, that is a name to conjure by.” She turned back to stare into the inkpot, intoning a brief, singsong chant, then sat back, relaxing.

Saul waved a hand over the inkpot, muttering quickly. It went dark, and he covered it. “Satisfied, Donna Mantrell?”

“I am not a donna,” she said automatically, then caught herself, wide-eyed. “But I suppose I am… here, am I not? If my son is a lord.”

“Not officially,” Saul told her, “but I’m sure that’s just an oversight Alisande will get around to fixing as soon as she’s back. Think your men are safe now, Donna?”

“Oh, yes,” Mama said, with a little smile. “As safe as they can be. I have sent them what aid I can, at least.” She frowned suddenly. “Pray Heaven it is enough!”

Gliding over the plain, they saw another small town appear ahead of them. Matt pointed. “Down there, Stegoman. It’s bigger than the other towns we’ve come to. Maybe there’ll be somebody left to sell us dinner.”

“Or perhaps a stray cow,” Stegoman grumbled. “These people seem to have been remarkably efficient in taking their beasts with them, Matthew!”

“Can’t leave food behind for the enemy, you know. Besides, I think Rinaldo’s planning on making the whole northern coast into one big castle, and they’re going to need every calorie they can find for the siege.”

“They could have left the swine,” Stegoman grumbled. “The Moors will not eat pork.”

“Maybe we can find you a real boar.”

“Thank you, I have met too many of those.” Stegoman banked, coasting around the town, then cupped his wings, braking hard, and touched down on the main street.

Papa climbed down, looking about him with a shudder. “It is so empty! In the West, they might think it a ghost town!”

“I have to admit, Rinaldo did a great job getting his people out of here,” Matt agreed. He slid down off Stegoman’s shoulder and strode toward an inn. “Let’s see if anybody’s home… or if they left anything.”

“Why should they?” Papa asked. “The people in the last three towns didn’t.” He shook his head in amazement. “They were surprisingly efficient, these folk of Ibile. Fleeing an enemy, they would be expected to take only what was vital, or valuable… but we haven’t found a single plate or cup, not a stick of silverware or a spare sandal!”

“Maybe they have so little that even everyday things like that are very dear to them,” Matt suggested.

“Let’s see if these folk had any more in the way of priorities.”

One minute proved the building was empty of life above the cockroach level, and even the bugs were looking malnourished. Ten minutes’ searching, though, turned up a bonus. Matt came staggering back into the street under a double armload. “Hey, Stegoman! What do you think of this?”

The dragon scowled down. “As firewood, it is excellent. As carving, it lacks something… perhaps skill.”

“Yeah, but as meat, it should be delicious!” Matt dropped the two bulbous brown objects, careful to yank toes out of the way. “Whaddaya think?”

The dragon stared, then caught one of the things up in his mouth. He dropped it a second later. “I could chew it if I had to, but I might break a tooth… and quickly though I regrow them, it might not be worth the while.”

“Oh, they’ll be edible after we’ve soaked them overnight,” Matt told him. “Salty, but soft enough to eat.”

“What are they, wizard?”

“Hams,” Matt told him. “Salt-cured, smoked, and dried. Probably weighed too much to cart along. Just as you guessed, there was no worry about leaving them… the Moors won’t eat pig meat.”

There was, of course, the little problem of where to soak the hams.

“It does mean we’ll have to stay here overnight,” Matt pointed out. “You might be able to pack a dozen hams, but not a whole water tank.”

Papa dropped his load of hams and said, “Yes, we must stay the night.”

Matt frowned, looking about him. “I don’t like it. Not that I’m really worried about ghosts, mind you, but I’m not keen on staying in a place that’s so easy to infiltrate. No matter which house we choose, any good second-story man would have a dozen windows to choose from.”

“A point,” Papa admitted. “Therefore, let us sleep outside the town.”

“I don’t mind camping out,” Matt said, “and I suppose it’s an advantage to be able to see a mile in every direction… but it does feel a bit exposed, with the Mahdi’s army only three days behind us, and his scouting parties all around.”

Papa pointed at a structure poking up above the houses. “There. I noticed it as we came in. It is several hundred yards past the town.”

“A windmill?” Matt stared. “Hey, not a bad idea! The walls should be as thick as any in this country, and no windows on the ground floor! Shouldn’t be too hard to defend.”

“And being outside the town, it will probably have its own well,” Papa pointed out. “We shall find water for your hams.”

“Let’s go!” Matt said. “You climb up, Papa, and I’ll start tossing them up to you!”

They loaded the dozen hams as efficiently as experienced stevedores, then secured themselves for takeoff between Stegoman’s huge back plates. The dragon took a little run, a lot of flapping, and took off in time to clear the town wall by three feet. They soared out toward the windmill.

“Wait a minute!” Matt pointed down. “What’s that?”

They all looked down, in time to see Stegoman’s shadow glide over a man who labored along the roadway, leaning against the crossbar at the front of a wagon tongue. Behind him rolled a two-wheeled cart… but slowly, very slowly. The man was straining every muscle to keep it moving, for it was piled high with small pieces of furniture, wooden plates and spoons, pewter mugs and the occasional earthenware stein, feather beds, casks, and bottles. The stakes of the cart were hung with hams, sausages, and bulging wineskins.

“I think,” Papa said, “that we have found all the personal items that were so obvious by their absence in the three towns we visited.”

“Yes, and maybe half a dozen more! Either that, or he’s an innkeeper who can’t bear to leave his capital behind to be confiscated.”

“Would he truly rather risk death at the hands of the enemy?” Papa wondered.

“I don’t know, but I think we might want to ask him,” Matt said. “How about landing, Stegoman?”

“As you wish,” the dragon rumbled. His eye gleamed as he looked down at the hams. He banked into a tight curve. His shadow fell over the traveler again. The man looked up in alarm.

Stegoman circled back, coming lower, and the man dropped the wagon tongue in a panic. He sprinted away from his cart… then skidded to a halt. Face a mask of agony, torn between fear and avarice, he turned back, yanking a cudgel from his belt, and set himself between Stegoman and the cart as the dragon landed.

“Foolish man!” Stegoman rumbled. “Do you truly think that puny twig could halt me?”

The man flinched but held his ground. “If it doesn’t, I’d rather be dead!”

From the ground, Matt could see that the fellow wasn’t very large… maybe five feet tall and skinny as a rail. The wizard stared in disbelief at the man’s words. “You’d die rather than lose a cartful of junk that’s making you labor worse than a galley slave just to keep it with you?”

“I’ve never had anything before!” the man whined. “Not anything, except the shirt on my back and the lice in my hair! ‘No, Callio,’ they told me, ‘you can’t have this, and you can’t have that… unless you pay!’

And where was I supposed to get money to buy with? ‘We won’t hire you, Callio,’ they told me. ‘You’re too small to do any good.’ Now all of a sudden, here’s all these wonderful, useful things, in perfect condition, and they can’t really be very important to anybody, or no one would have left them behind!”

“On the contrary.” Papa slid down from the dragon’s back. “They are the little things that make a household comfortable and that bring delight to a wife’s heart. I think they were quite important indeed to the folk who left them.”

“They couldn’t be! Or they would have taken them with them somehow!”

“Important, but not so vital as spouses or children,” Papa corrected. “They took with them what they could easily carry or what was most important among their worldly goods. They left only the things that they wanted, but could do without.”

Matt nodded. “It was leave the extras, or travel so slowly that the Moors might catch them and sell them as slaves… or maybe even kill them in a battle frenzy. Only a fool would think possessions were worth his life.”

“All right, I’m a fool!” the little man screamed. “If the people who left all this thought they could do without them, then let them do without them now! It’s my turn to have some nice things!”

Matt slid down now, too. “That makes you just a common thief, you know.”

He was appalled when Callio burst into tears, sagging to his knees.