My Son, the Wizard

Chapter Twenty-Four

Saul held tight to Mama’s shoulder even as he swung his hand up to shield his eyes, staggering back against the wall. Then the glare was gone, and he lowered his hand to stare around at the cell, empty now except for its furniture, Mama, and himself… and some very large afterimages.

“How foolish of me!” Mama cried. “I should have foreseen this!”

“We didn’t know how clever he was,” Saul groaned, “or how quick. I should have seen it coming, too.”

Mama shook her head in reluctant admiration. “He may be a sexist beast, but he is a formidable adversary. I should have wondered why he wore so many rings! I should have realized that Beidizam could work a spell in my presence!”

“You realized that last part, at least,” Saul reminded her. “That’s why you brought me along, remember?

For backup. Turned out you were right, too.”

“But I should have suspected those rings!”

“Why?” Saul shrugged. “Neither of us is a jeweler, and Beidizam was so obviously vain that he would have seemed odd if he hadn’t had a ring on every finger. And neither of us is an expert on genie lore, either. Yeah, I remember the Slave of the Ring who got Aladdin out of the cave, but mostly you think of genies as living in lamps.”

“You are good to ease my feelings, Saul,” Mama said, a little less distressed, “but still I burn with anger that an enemy has outmaneuvered me. Worse, he shall now seek to outmaneuver us in war!”

She swept out the door toward the stairs, calling to the guards, “My compliments to Sir Guy and Sir Gilbert, and I would appreciate it if they would wait on me in my solar. We must have a council of war!”

The soldiers stared, then ran.

Saul caught up with her. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” Mama snapped. “The only question now is whether the Moors will attack tomorrow, or the next day!”

Under the railroad bridge, the air thickened, then thickened more, until it coalesced into Matt, blinking about him in surprise. He hadn’t really expected to arrive at night. Good thing, though, come to think of it … the cops might not be too understanding about somebody wearing doublet and hose, especially when they were so worn and travel-stained as Matt’s.

He took a step out, glancing to left and right to see if he was alone. He thought he saw movement under a streetlight, and turned back… to find Callio huddled against the wall, trembling.

Matt stared, then stepped up. “So it was you who grabbed my arm! Were you really trying to hold me back?”

“Who… ?” The thief looked up. “Oh no, Lord Wizard! But I made sure you would not leave without me … life has been so much more interesting since I joined you!”

“Not to say profitable, hm?” Matt shook his head. “Well, don’t try lifting anything here, Callio. We have a lot of thieves, and they resent anyone poaching on their territory. The citizens are also pretty careful.” he added, “and the shopkeepers are worse.”

“If… if you say so, Lord Wizard.” But Callio was clearly disappointed.

“I came here to fight a villain,” Matt told him. “This could get dangerous. You’d better stay here and wait; I’ll come back and get you if I can.”

“If you can?” Callio stared. “What could prevent you?”

“Death,” Matt snapped. “The outlaw I’m going up against is very mean, and he has some extremely tough bodyguards. They also have magical weapons, like the one Luco tried to use on us. You’re far safer staying here.”

“Yes, if you live! But if you don’t, I’m stranded here in a world that is foreign to me!” Callio crept out and took a quick look at the railroad station, the cobblestoned yard, the streetlights… and just then, a commuter train came roaring by. For a minute, the whole world was filled with its thunder, resounding and echoing under the bridge. Callio cried out in panic and clung to Matt.

“Okay, so you’re coming along,” Matt said, disgusted… but he also remembered that even if he got through this alive, he might not have time to come back to this bridge before he returned to Merovence.

“Thank you, Lord Wizard,” Callio whimpered.

“But if you’re going to come along, you’ll have to do as I say… and do it instantly, understand? There isn’t going to be time to explain.”

“Surely, Lord Wizard! Yes, surely!” Callio nodded so hard Matt was afraid his head would fall off.

“Okay, wait for magic,” Matt said, and stepped deeper into the shadow under the bridge, reciting,

He felt the magic field thicken about him, only a pale echo of the Merovencian phenomenon… but a counterforce sprang up to resist it almost immediately, and Matt found his whole body straining against it. As he finished the last couplet, he felt the whole field collapse, and staggered, leaning against the wall, gasping.

A hand touched his shoulder. “Are you well?” Callio asked, on the verge of panic.

“Just… peachy.” Matt pushed himself away from the wall, still panting. “It… worked. Just fine.”

“But nothing has happened,” Callio protested.

“Maybe,” Matt said. “Maybe not. We won’t know until we meet the man we’ve come to find.”

“How shall we find him, then?”

“I don’t think we’ll have to,”’ Matt said slowly. “If I have him figured right, he’ll find us… and fast, too.

Before that happens, though, we’ve got some other things to do. Let’s go.”

He started out, Callio right on his heels, staying near the retaining wall in hopes of shadow. “Brace yourself for a lot of odd things… “

“Odder than that dragon that roared over our heads?”

“Yes, in their way. You’re going to see carriages that look like giant beetles, and move without horses…

“Magic!” Callio cried, eyes round.

“Hey, it’s my hometown,” Matt said. “And there’re a lot of watchmen, only they wear light blue shirts and dark blue trousers, loose trousers, not tight like your leggings… “

“Ought we not to dress like them?”

“We should, but I didn’t have the foresight to bring along a change of clothing,” Matt said. “So if one of the watchmen stops you to ask about your funny clothes, you tell him… Callio? Callio, where are you!”

“Here, Lord Wizard.” Callio materialized out of the darkness, holding up two shirts and two pairs of jeans. “Are these the clothes of which you speak?”

Matt stared. “Where did you find those?”

“I espied them hanging from a rope in a yard near this roadway. They may not fit too well, but these watchmen you speak of will find us less remarkable in them.”

“You’re right about that,” Matt admitted. “I hate to take somebody else’s clothes, but right now, I’m afraid we need them worse than they do.” He pulled his purse out of his tights, drew out two large pieces of silver, and said, “Clip these to that rope where you got these clothes, okay?”

“Lord Wizard!” Callio exclaimed indignantly. “What proper thief… “

“The kind who has a conscience,” Matt told him, “and the kind who wants to go with me. You want to come along or not?”

“I go.” Callio snatched the silver and shot back over the fence.

Matt watched him narrowly, but the two pieces of silver were still winking under the streetlight as the thief came back, muttering and cursing every step of the way.

“Your talents could be invaluable,” Matt told him, “but we have to use them ethically if we don’t want to get into trouble. Come on, let’s step into the angle of the railroad station while we change.” He handed Callio the smaller set of clothes, not mentioning that they were a child’s size. Callio would have fainted at the thought that children grew so big here.

They stepped out again ten minutes later with Matt’s pack noticeably more full. Callio was still marveling over buttons and zippers. “Whoever would have thought to hold a garment shut with steel!”

“Yeah, it really is amazing,” Matt agreed.

“They must be wealthy indeed, who owned these garments!”

“No, steel is just very cheap here. Be careful going into people’s yards, okay? You were lucky you didn’t run into a German shepherd.”

Then Matt had to explain that the shepherd in question was a large dog, not a sheepherder from Allustria … but that became rather complicated, because the animals had originally been bred to herd sheep, and what’s more, they were originally from Alsace, which Callio stubbornly refused to admit was one of the Germanies… turned out his father had been a native of the district, and had thought himself to be thoroughly a citizen of Merovence. By the time Matt straightened it out, they had reached Main Street.

There Callio stopped and stared. “It is as bright as day!”

“Fewer accidents that way,” Matt told him.

A car came roaring by, and Callio leaped into Matt’s arms with a yip of dismay.

“Oh, get down,” Matt said in disgust, and dropped him.

The thief landed on his feet, eyes round. “Was that one of those carriages of which you spoke?”

“Horseless carriages, yes.”

“Truly they could be dangerous!”

“So could the people,” Matt told him. “Hands in pockets, okay? Your own pockets, Callio!”

“You spoil the whole adventure,” the thief complained. “What is a ‘pocket,’ Lord Wizard?”

They were just getting that sorted out when the big black car pulled up to the curb in front of them. Matt turned to run, but he bumped into Callio, and by the time they’d sorted themselves out, the six-and-a-half-foot-tall heavyweight in the pin-striped suit had climbed out and opened the back door. He jerked his head at it and snapped, “Get in!”

The driver had climbed out, too, his hand inside his suit coat.

“Uh, couldn’t we talk about this?” Matt hedged.

“You talk with the boss! Inside!”

The driver brought out his gun. Matt didn’t like the way Callio was eyeing him, then thoughtfully studying the bulge under the armpit of the thug who was holding the door. He reminded himself that he had wanted to find Groldor anyway, but before he could give in, the thug snarled “Go on, get in!” and virtually tossed him into the backseat.

Matt rolled with the throw, tucking his head in, then crashed against the far door anyway as Callio jolted up against him. The thug got in beside Callio and slammed the door shut. Heavy clunking noises sounded from all four doors, and the car moved away from the curb. Experimentally, Matt tried the door latch, but sure enough, the panel didn’t budge, and there weren’t any lock releases in sight, electronic or mechanical.

“Why do you let them treat you so, Lord Wizard?” Callio asked, wide-eyed.

“Why not?” Matt said. “They’re taking me where I want to go, anyway.”

“But I cannot abide being in so small a space!” Callio turned on the thug, grabbing his lapels and yanking himself close. “You must let me out! I cannot stand to be so shut in! It is too much like gaol!”

“We all got that problem,” the thug snarled, and jammed him back in his seat.

Matt protested, “Hey, you don’t have to be so rough with… “

But Callio shot over the seat and next to the driver, grabbing him by the lapels. “You must let me out! I fear this monster will digest me whole! This is no coach, it is a ravening raptor!”

The driver swerved, narrowly missing a semi on his left, then swung the wheel too far to the right, almost colliding with a parked car, and jammed on the brakes. Callio slammed up against the windshield and bounced back into the seat, sobbing.

“The car won’t hurt you, mac,” the driver grunted, “but I will! Now get back in that seat and stay there!”

He grabbed the little thief and shoved hard. Callio vaulted over the seatback and landed on the guard’s lap. The man cursed and jammed him back between himself and Matt.

“Let up on the kid, will you?” Matt snapped.

“The boss said not to beat on you if we didn’t have to,” the man growled. “Do we have to?”

Matt opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but Callio looked up at him, still sobbing, and winked. The words evaporated on Matt’s tongue as a chill of dread seized him. Just what was the little thief planning, anyway?

Papa walked through a village of hide tents and brush huts, laid out in neat circles with a common center. That was where he was going, escorted by a Percheron with a steel suit containing a man on its back.

Foot soldiers looked up from sharpening spears and polishing armor. More people boiled out of the tents and came running to see. Many of them wore only peasants’ jerkins and leggings, but had the hard-bitten look of veterans nonetheless.

Papa was aware that, although the knight who rode the huge horse wasn’t holding a lance or sword to his back, he was nonetheless alert to the slightest questionable movement. Papa had no doubt that his sword could be out and stabbing in a second.

“Here is far enough,” the knight directed him.

Papa stopped about thirty feet from a silken pavilion… soiled and patched, but silken nonetheless. The guards saw, and one ducked inside. He came out a moment later and said, “The king will see you in a moment.”

So this was how far the King of Ibile had fallen! But he was nonetheless a king, and perhaps his finest accomplishment was that he was still fighting. Certainly the presence of his troops spoke well of him, for they could have deserted easily at any time. They definitely seemed to care about their sovereign…

Papa could see at least four drawn bows, and many naked swords, all with him as their targets.

Apparently any stranger was a possible assassin.

Out he came, tall and handsome, but dressed in the leather and broadcloth of a hunter. Nonetheless, there was a nobility about him that left no doubt as to his station. Papa bowed. “Your Majesty!”

“You are well-mannered,” King Rinaldo said with a smile. “I greet you, goodman. What is your name?”

“I am Ramon Rodrigo Mantrell, Majesty.”

The king seemed to go still somehow. “I know that name Mantrell.”

“It is not rare,” Papa said, “but in this instance, it is the name you know indeed, for I am the father of Matthew Mantrell, Lord Wizard of Merovence.”

“Are you indeed!” But the king was not convinced. “If you are indeed his father, and have come to seek me out, he will have told you something of our adventures together. Can you tell me what he might have to say that none others would know?”

“Yes, Majesty. He told me to ask if you were keeping an eye out for him.”

King Rinaldo winced, remembering that, when he had met Matt, he had been locked by a wicked enchantment into the form of a dwarf cyclops; his other eye had been in a bottle on a shelf in King Gordogrosso’s workroom. “Not exactly uncommon knowledge, but surely only Matthew would stoop so low as to give a watchword like that! How is it you are here, Master Mantrell? Your son told me he was very far from home!”

“He was, Your Majesty.” The thought of just how far made Papa shiver. “But we ran into difficulties, wife and I, so Matthew came back to fetch us here. He has gone back again, to fight an enemy who, he says, is an agent of the sorcerer who lies behind this war that troubles you so.”

“What sorcerer?” Rinaldo lost his smile. “I know nothing of a sorcerer, only of an army of Moors who have swept over my land, led by a boy who calls himself the Mahdi!”

“Matthew has discovered that one man, a Nirobus by name, has caused the troubles that beset us both.

He it is who excited a small group of sorcerers into inciting the Moors to conquer, and convincing a shepherd that he could lead them.”

“Indeed!” King Rinaldo frowned. “He has learned much, our Matthew!”

“It is learning in which he is trained more than in anything else, Your Majesty.” Papa couldn’t quite stifle a smile of pride. King Rinaldo grinned. “Now I know that you are his father, for only a proud papa would glisten so, simply because his son has learned how to learn. Come, enter my pavilion, Master Mantrell… but I pray you, keep your hands in plain sight, for my retainers are horribly suspicious.”

“As they should be.” Papa bowed, then followed King Armando into the pavilion. The king sat on a portable throne, rather ingeniously contrived. Everyone else stood, in accordance with protocol. Besides, that made it easier to draw then swords, or swing their halberds, in case Papa tried anything violent. “I have fought and retreated with my army only once, Master Mantrell, and realized that we could not stand against the might of the Moorish army and the power of their magicians’ magic.” A shadow crossed his face. “I would say it was evil magic, but it seems to have wreaked no more suffering than any other form of war, and the Moors, by all my spies’ reports, are as devoted to their faith as any Christian. I know their religion is untrue, but I cannot say it is evil.”

“Nor would I, Your Majesty,” Papa answered, “and although I think it contains many mistakes and allows many actions that I believe to be wrong, I must admit that the core of its beliefs is very much like our own.”

“Save that they do not recognize Christ as God,” said Rinaldo, frowning. “That above all,” Papa agreed, “but they do honor him as a prophet.”

“They do. No, I could not call them evil.”

“Nor can I,” Papa agreed. “However, as with Christians, wicked men can lead them astray. Certainly evil sorcerers can use magic to gain the victories that might of arms alone could not.”

“Even so,” King Rinaldo agreed, “and because of that, I have bidden my people to leave their houses and farms and follow me into the hills. Fifty thousand of them have seen fit to obey. The others stayed to take their chances with Moorish mercy. I cannot say that I blame them, for to uproot one’s whole life is no small thing. I have left a garrison in each city, putting up enough resistance to bog down the Moors’ advance, but I fear that any citizens who trust too much in those soldiers will be horribly disappointed.”

Papa frowned. “I had heard that the land was in the Mahdi’s hands, but that many of the cities were still free.”

“So my spies say, and I am amazed the invaders haven’t sent parties to rout my garrisons and occupy the cities. Instead, I am told they have thrust straight through to the Pyrenees.” King Rinaldo smiled bleakly.

“Perhaps the citizens who chose to stay in their cities have chosen rightly after all.”

“Perhaps, if the food and water last,” Papa said. He frowned, thinking of typhus and cholera. “I hope they will be well, my people,” King Rinaldo sighed. “My spies say that the Mahdi keeps his soldiers on a tight rein, we have heard very little of looting or rapine, or any others of the sorts of random brutality that so often accompany an army on the march.”

“He is a very devout man in his own religion, Your Majesty,” Papa said. King Rinaldo frowned. “Have you met him, then?”

Papa launched into an account of his and Matthew’s visit with Tafas bin Daoud, leaving out only Lakshmi’s contribution, he merely attributed their arrival and escape to magic, which was true enough as far as it went. King Rinaldo listened in complete silence, only nodding now and then or uttering an expletive at the Mahdi’s complete and utter self confidence. When Papa was done, the king said, “He is young and naive, then, but a man of good heart, and a genius in battle.”

“He is,” Papa agreed, “but the sorcerers behind him may be evil, and were most certainly persuaded to embark on this campaign of conquest by a man who posed as a sage, a holy hermit… but did not profess a religion.”

“And you say the same man has upset your own homeland!”

Apparently Matt hadn’t told the king about alternate universes. “He has, Majesty, as well as we can discover… and has addicted many of our young people to a drug that allows him to leach energy from them, to use for his magics.”

King Rinaldo shuddered “That is a most evil form of magic! Yes, I have done well to avoid outright battles.”

“Very well indeed,” Papa said, in pleased surprise. “How have you fought, then, Your Majesty!”

“By harassing the foe, Master Mantrell… cutting down their laggards, ambushing their food caravans, striking them hard and fast with raids that stampede their horses and slay a few soldiers, then disappearing into the night. We have slain only a few hundred, but the rest are beginning to live in fear that we may swoop down upon them at any moment.” He forced a hard smile. “I had hoped for help from Merovence, but the queen has not even replied to my appeals.”

“She has,” Papa said, surprised. “Her messengers, then, have not reached you.”

Rinaldo only stared at him for a minute, digesting the news, then said, “No, they have not. We were afraid there might have been couriers who were captured by the Mahdi’s scourers. What does Her Majesty?”

“She has marched against the Moors,” Papa said, “but the Mahdi awaits her on Ibile’s side of the mountains. While he does, he has sent a quarter of his force by sea, to besiege her capital, Bordestang.”

“So that is why the Moors have made only a token attack on the north country!” King Rinaldo cried.

“And will not do more, until they have fought Queen Alisande… after which, they may not be able to fight you,” Papa said.

“I cannot let Queen Alisande fight my war for me!”

“Nor do you,” Papa said evenly. “She fights to save her own country as much as yours, for the Mahdi is driving to conquer Bordestang and Merovence first. Then, when they are secure, he will turn back to finish the conquest of Ibile.”

King Rinaldo frowned, puzzled. “A strange strategy.”

“Only if you are fooled into believing that the Mahdi is the true enemy,” Papa said.

“Who else could be?” King Rinaldo asked, frowning. “You mean this Nirobus fellow?”

“The same, Majesty. If he is truly a servant of Evil, trying to reconquer Ibile and Merovence for his master the Devil, he might well deem Merovence to be the worst danger.”

“Yes, because I would not have regained my throne and expelled the evil sorcerer from my kingdom without the help of the queen and your son!” King Rinaldo cried. “Galling though it is to admit, they are a far greater danger to the Conquest of Evil than I am! I think you have hit upon it, Master Mantrell… or your son has! Explain to me the working of this campaign!”