My Son, the Wizard

Chapter Twenty-Three

Outside the cell, climbing the stairs up from the dungeon, Mama said, “You did your part very well, Saul. He was quite frightened when I came in.”

“Why, thank you, Lady Mantrell,” Saul said, with an “aw, shucks” sort of grin. “I used to watch horror movies when I was a kid.”

“Educational media, no doubt… you must have learned well from them. What did you do to him?”

“To him, nothing. I just imitated the sadists I’ve met one place and another, especially since I came to this world. Of course, Beidizam couldn’t know that… “

“You must be quite talented,” Mama said, “a natural mimic.”

“Why, thank you.” Saul told himself he shouldn’t be so pleased. “You realize, of course, that the second we walked out that door, Beidizam started chanting a verse to transport him out of that cell and back to his own tent.”

“Of course, but he will not succeed,” Mama said with certainty. “I have made sure of that.”

“Yes, that was an odd little spell you sang him. What was it? All I could pick out was the word ‘aphasia.’

“You know of it, then?”

“Of course… it’s the ultimate speech defect, usually caused by damage to the brain. Someone who suffers from it can make all the speech sounds… his tongue, vocal folds, and lips are just fine. But they’re disconnected from his brain; the link between mind and mouth has been broken.”

“An interesting way to put it,” Mama said, frowning.

“Sure. The person with aphasia thinks she’s saying, ‘I’m speaking perfectly clearly,’ but all that’s coming out is gibberish. She can’t encode her thoughts as language; no matter what she tries to say, all that comes out of her mouth is babbling non… ” Saul stared. “You didn’t!”

“I most certainly did,” Mama said with asperity. “He shall have aphasia indeed, unless he talks to me… and I trust you shall always be near, to counter any spell he tries to cast at such times.”

“Well, I will, of course,” Saul said, frowning, “but why would you need me? You’re the spellbinder!”

“Because sooner or later he will try to knock me out or gag me, to prevent my blocking his enchantments,” Mama said with complete assurance. “He may not be the tiger he thinks himself, but he is most certainly a wolf. You will not let me go alone into his den, will you, Saul?”

“Not a chance,” Saul said fervently, thinking of the prophet Daniel.

So no matter how hard he tried, Beidizam remained their permanent guest, and none of his underlings wanted to take the responsibility for attacking the city without magical backup. Without their sorcerer there to command, no one did anything, and the siege ground to a sit-down halt.

Matt went over and nudged Luco with his foot. The boy’s head rolled, a silly grin on his face. “He’s out, but good and proper. What’re we going to do with him, Papa? Can’t just leave him lying around cluttering up the place.”

Papa shrugged. “What did I always do when I found him out too late? Send him home.”

“Sure, why not?” Matt turned thoughtful. “It could be that every time somebody makes that trip, the channel becomes a little more solidly established, couldn’t it?”

“Making it easier for you to go back to New Jersey? Yes, quite,” Papa said, “but more importantly, making it easier for you to return.”

“Good point.” Matt frowned. “I don’t want to close that channel until after I’m back here, do I? But for the meantime, to help keep it open… “

Luco’s form blurred, seemed to stretch and condense, then faded from sight.

“He was a good boy,” Papa said sadly, “and would have stayed that way, if his father had paid him any attention.”

“Oh, he paid attention, all right… whenever he wanted somebody to listen to him brag about him being the big hero in the Battle of the Bulge.”

A squall of surprise and fear made them both whirl toward Callio. The thief was staring at a section of ground in front of him that had sunk a few inches, leaving an oblong platter-shape in the dirt. Matt frowned, stepping over. “What happened, Callio?”

“My loot!” the thief cried. “I buried it, even as you said I should… and it has sunk deeper than I dug!”

“Oh.” Matt nodded sympathetically. “It didn’t sink, Callio, it disappeared. That rifle is out of this world, now. Literally. Luco brought it from another land, and I just sent him back where he came from… so I guess the weapon went with him.”

Callio leaped up, fists clenched, glaring up at Matt. “So this is your reason for burying things… so that you may steal them from me by your magic!”

“Only this item,” Matt assured him, “and it’s not the kind of thing you would have wanted to have around anyway, believe me.”

Callio opened his mouth for an angry retort, then suddenly went pale with fear. “Do you say it is magical?”

“In terms of this universe,” Matt said, “yes… and bad magic, too, the kind that can kill a lot of people.”

Callio turned away with a shudder. “Thank you for stealing it from me, wizard!”

“But I didn’t… ” Matt broke off, too frustrated to explain.

Papa laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Don’t bother to try, Matthew. Our Callio is a pleasant enough rascal, but he is also one of those who will only hear what he wants.”

“Or what he understands?” Matt asked, with a sardonic smile. “I’m not sure I’m all that much better.”

“Of course you are!” Papa said with a grin. “Look how much you guessed about our enemy Nirobus without any evidence!”

“Sheer hunch alone, huh?” Matt shook his head. “Hard to think of the old guy as an enemy… he seemed so nice, so gentle and sympathetic.”

“Yes, but I can appear so, too, when I wish,” Papa told him.

“You are nice and gentle and sympathetic!”

“Many people who are, try not to let it show, Matthew. Besides, I can be quite unpleasant, even hard, if there is need.”

Matt remembered a few run-ins with other parents when he’d been a child, not to mention the exploits he’d been watching in the last few weeks. “True enough, Papa. So we have to figure Nirobus is the man behind all this trouble, no matter what his reasons are.”

“… There can surely be no greater treason… ‘ ” Papa began.

“Hey, be careful, okay?” Matt interrupted. “You don’t want to go slinging rhymes around here just to make a point.”

“True enough,” Papa agreed, abashed, then brightened. “But since I have said other things since, it will no longer be a rhyme… To do the right thing for the wrong reason.’ “

“I definitely do not agree,” Matt said. “What’s important is to do the right thing, period. Even so, I’d say our Nirobus may be doing the wrong thing for the right reason.”

“At best,” Papa agreed. “More likely, he is doing the wrong thing for the wrong reason, but is skilled at making himself appear to be good.”

“At least in the past, my enemies have all looked like villains,” Matt sighed. “I suppose I was due for a bad guy who looked good. Let’s just hope his deputy the drug baron doesn’t look so respectable.”

“Be sure that he will,” Papa said grimly, “but the appearance of respectability is another matter entirely from the appearance of goodness. Surely when he talked me into leaving teaching for small business, he looked both respectable and good.”

“Yes, and after you’d bought the store, he left it up to Groldor to ruin you.”

Papa shrugged “We were in his way, he killed two birds with one gang.”

“Well, between them, they certainly did a good job of drawing me away from Merovence,” Matt said, “and I don’t doubt they would have done an even better job of keeping me from getting back, if I hadn’t had the Spider King and St. Moncaire both working on my side.”

Papa nodded. “But their leaching may have been their own downfall in that, for to use their drug to steal energy from our young people, they had to keep the link between the universes open.”

“Good point.” Matt looked up, a gleam in his eye “In fact, that’s the kind of side effect I really like… using the enemy’s own schemes against him.”

“You mean to find an effect that can be used as a weapon?” Papa grinned “The justice in it appeals to my poetic soul.”

“I knew there was a reason you were a good magician here.”

“The soul reason?” Papa asked. Matt winced. “That’s another one, your fondness for words.”

Papa shrugged “They taste good.”

“The wizard as sensualist,” Matt mused. “Interesting paradox. But I hope we can find some of those side effects to use against Groldor, because no matter what else happens, I have to go back and knock him out.”

“Well, I think I am ready for that fight.” Papa stood up, grinning “Shall we walk, or ride?”

Matt looked up turning somber “I said I have to go, Papa.”

Papa frowned. “But he is more my enemy than yours! I cannot let you fight my battles!”

“Groldor is just a side theater of operations in my own major war,” Matt reminded him, “Alisande versus Nirobus… which means Nirobus versus me.”

“Yes, that is so.” Papa turned somber, too. “But you must not neglect the other theater of operations, Matthew… northern Ibile, where your King Rinaldo is hard pressed.”

“Right.” Matt nodded. “But all he needs is news, guerrilla training, and a resident wizard to travel with his army, if he doesn’t already have one.”

“All things which I can do.” Papa frowned. Matt nodded. “And the guerrilla training, you can do better than me… you were a Ranger.”

“All well and good,” Papa said, fighting down anger, “but why do you think you can deal with Groldor better than I?”

“Because,” Matt said, “you didn’t grow up in New Jersey. And believe me, there are some back alleys you don’t know.”

Papa’s face turned thunderous “I thought I told you to stay out of such places.”

“You did,” Matt said, “but I didn’t always have a lot of choice, when bullies were chasing me. I know the hiding places, Papa, and the local customs.”

“I could go with you!”

“I’d love it,” Matt said fervently, “but there isn’t time… and there’s no guarantee we would be able to come back. Besides, Mama is holding off an army and needs to have someone come lift the siege, and since Alisande’s tied up with the Mahdi, the only troops who can ride to the rescue are Rinaldo’s.”

Papa lowered his gaze, troubled; the mention of Mama in danger gave him pause.

Matt saw, and followed up his advantage. Pitching his voice low, he said, “Besides… it’s something I have to do alone, for personal reasons.”

Papa looked up, startled, and locked gazes. Looking into his son’s eyes, he said, “I see. You must overcome the bullies of your past by fighting their boss in New Jersey.”

Matt nodded. “Merovence needs to have me go back, and I need to have me go back. Please, Papa. I need you in the North.”

Matt watched his father walk away, pack on his back, eyes fixed on the north, and Matt felt very much alone. He hoped Papa knew the territory well enough by now to deal with whatever trouble he ran into.

Papa disappeared below the crest of the hill and Matt turned away, scolding himself. Of course Papa would be okay… he was a wizard now, and had a good deal more life experience than Matt had. If worse came to worst, he could summon Lakshmi and charm her into fighting his battles for him.

The thought relaxed him for a moment… his plot had worked. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Papa would be out of danger, or at least in less danger than he would have found in New Jersey. Okay, he’d be in a war, but he’d be in the middle of an army, with a lot of soldiers between himself and the Moors… and if they fought guerrilla-style, they probably wouldn’t come anywhere near a pitched battle.

Matt, on the other hand, was going to be alone against a dozen merciless thugs. He felt himself turn hollow at the thought and tried to remind himself that some of the villains he’d faced in Allustria and

Ibile had to be worse than anything New Jersey could produce… but he had a hard time believing that one, too.

Papa had given in kind of easily, though. Matt wondered if he should feel hurt, or suspicious.

He turned back to pack away the food and douse the campfire. Then he remembered Callio, and was surprised to discover that his backpack was still there. For that matter, he was surprised to find the campfire was still there.

Then, when he looked around, he was even more surprised, for the one thing that wasn’t there was Callio.

Matt’s first impulse was huge relief… the thief had been a bit of a burden, or at least a bother. He felt rather ashamed of the emotion, but there it was.

Not that it mattered… he was going to New Jersey alone, anyway. He tried to recall the tune and lyrics of the latest rock song he’d heard there, and had to work hard to think them in English instead of the language of Merovence. He succeeded, though, and began to sing. The peculiar biorhythms of the piece began to reverberate through him; he felt his heartbeat synchronizing with it, felt the English words coming with less and less effort, and the world began to go gray around him…

Just before the world went crazy, he felt two hands seize his arm, hard, but his trance was too deep to bother shaking them off. A vagrant thought flitted through his mind, that if anyone from Merovence wanted to come along to his native universe, they deserved what they got.

Then the world swirled around him, shapeless, formless, and the familiar dizziness swept him away.

Papa descended the trail, glanced back to make sure Matt was out of sight, then dropped his pack behind a rocky outcrop and called, softly, sweetly, and in his most enticing tone,

A dust devil boiled up out of the ground before him, towered swirling and rumbling over him, threatening and dark. Then it pulled in on itself and became Lakshmi, pivoting in place as in a dance, slowing and halting to glare at him, defiant and truculent. “What do you wish of me now, O Unnaturally Virtuous Man?”

“Assistance that you may find enjoyable,” Papa said; then, quickly, because of the gleam in her eye, “No, not that kind. But my son has foolishly decided to go to another universe, another world, and battle an arch-sorcerer and his minions alone, with no weapons other than his magic… and spells will not work as well there as they do here.”

“But a djinna’s magic, even diminished, may turn the tide?” Lakshmi asked sourly. “Well, I have been to other worlds before… no, do not gawk like a peasant seeing a city for the first time! We djinn have many powers that you know not of. But what reward shall I have for my efforts, eh?” She raised a hand to forestall his answer. “I know, I know, your undying gratitude! Well, you shall die long before I, I doubt not.”

“I was going to say,” Papa protested, “that I shall aid you in your hour of need.”

“Your son already has, and the fool would not take such reward as I wished to give! Why should you do differently? Nonetheless, I shall do the two of you this one favor more. Do not push too hard at the boundaries of my gratitude, O Man!”

“I regret that I must do so,” Papa said meekly, “for I have nowhere else to turn for the kind of help that we need.”

“Then do not put yourself into such straits again!” Lakshmi snapped, and wound up to start whirling again.

“And might I ask one more boon?” Papa asked quickly.

Lakshmi froze and gave him a dagger-glance. “I do not promise to grant it… but ask!”

“That you take me to my son in his hour of need,” Papa said quickly.

“If I have a whole hour in which to do it, yes. If help must be given on the instant, I will help him myself and without you,” Lakshmi snapped. “I say again, O Wizard, do not ask too much!”

“Forgive me,” Papa said, all meekness.

“My mother told me never to trust a man with honeyed words,” Lakshmi sniffed, “especially if he was in love with another! You should have summoned me before your son married, foolish mortal! Even so, I shall guard him for you. Farewell!” She spun into her whirl, too fast for him to get another word in edgewise, blurred into a howling whirlwind, and sank into the ground.

Papa smiled with fond amusement. Really, he was coming to like Lakshmi immensely. She might complain about it, but the poor thing was so blatantly in love with Matthew that all Papa had needed to do was to say that his son might be in danger. There was no chance that Lakshmi would have refused.

Considering Matthew’s misspelling in his freeing her of her lamp, she had no chance at all.

The huge lock ground and clanked, the door grated open, and Mama stepped into Beidizam’s chamber with Saul behind her. “I trust you are comfortable, milord.”

“As comfortable as I may be, in a Frankish castle,” Beidizam grumbled, “but I thank you for a proper bed and windows, even if they are mere arrowslits, and barred.”

“I hope to treat you as a noble guest deserves,” Mama said demurely. “Is there anything you wish, that we may supply?”

“Other than guards who understand the words I speak, so that I need not pantomime my wants?”

“Other than that, yes.”

“Well, a houri or two, some properly cooked food, and some Moorish sweetmeats would do nicely.”

“I feared you would find our way of living too modest.” Mama sat in a small, straight chair. “But surely it is better than your tent and field quarters.”

“Well, it is that,” Beidizam admitted. “Still, you might tell me how you have bound every spell I utter, so that it might as well never have been spoken.”

“Because it has not been,” Mama said simply.

Beidizam stared.

“I have tangled your tongue, milord,” Mama said with gentle sympathy. “When you speak to anyone but me, your lips will not form the words your mind has chosen… they will only spout nonsense syllables.”

“How is it I have not noticed this?” Beidizam demanded.

“Because you hear only the words you intended to say,” Mama explained. “Others hear only the random noises your mouth makes instead.”

“Ingenious!” Beidizam’s eyes glowed with reluctant admiration. “But how is it you understand my words?”

“I made that one exception when I cast the spell, milord… that when you are in my presence, your tongue is straightened, and your lips once more do your bidding. When I am with you, your mouth speaks the words your mind intends.”

“If that is truly so… ” Beidizam said, and rubbed one hand over the other.

Saul saw, and leaped. “Stop that! Lady Mantrell, he’s rubbing his… “

Smoke billowed out of Beidizam’s hand, turning into a huge genie with bulging eyes and boar’s tusks.

“Who summons the Genie of the Ring?”

“I, Beidizam!” the Moor cried. “Take us from this place, O Genie! Take all in this room to my tent outside the city!”

Mama instantly chanted in Spanish.

“I hear and obey!” the genie thundered to Beidizam, then turned to Mama and Saul, gesturing.

Saul pulled a dried herb from his pocket and caught Mama’s shoulder with the other hand as he chanted quickly,

The genie finished his gesture, chanting in Berber. There was a blinding flash of light.