My Son, the Wizard

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Everyone back!” Matt shouted, and started his anti-genie chant… but too late. Smoke boiled from Nirobus’ ruby and jetted high into the air, thickening and condensing into a gigantic human form. A genie with mammoth muscles and haughty, noble mien towered above them… and the women gasped, for he was so handsome as to freeze them in place.

“We are lost!” Tafas cried, staring upward, finally actually afraid. “He is a Marid, a veritable prince of the djinn! He wields power too great to comprehend!”

Papa started muttering.

The genie’s huge voice rolled out, like a melody played on the deepest bells of a carillon. “What would you have me do… ” His mouth twisted, and the last word came hard: “… master?”

“Clear this hillside for me, O Genie!” Nirobus waved a hand at the officers gathered before him. “Send them back to their troops, back to their homes!”

“To hear is to obey,” the genie ground out, obviously hating every word he was saying. He raised huge hands, palms forward, fingers spread wide, chanting in Arabic.

Mama chanted just as firmly.

The genie made a circling gesture with each hand, ending by clenching his fists as his voice thundered out the last syllables of the spell. A gale blasted the line of officers.

Mama finished the rhyme and caught her breath.

The gale died on the instant.

The genie stared. “This cannot be!”

“What cannot be?” Nirobus asked in a tone of foreboding.

“Someone has countered my magic!” He glared down at the host, thundering, “Who has bound my spell?”

Nirobus’s eyes widened. “The spellbinder!” He pointed at Mama. “It is she, O Genie! Remove her at once! Slay her, crush her!”

Papa finished his verse, then leaped in front of Mama, crying, “Do not dare!”

“Dare?” The genie roared laughter. “And who will stop me, little man?”

Dust boiled up in front of Papa, up and up till it was almost as tall as he, then thickened and coalesced into a beautiful woman, clad in her usual harem pants, bolero, slippers, and crown… and a very exasperated expression. “What now, mortal man?”

For answer, Papa only pointed upward.

Mama glanced at Papa, frowning.

Lakshmi turned, puzzled… then stared upward. “Prince Ranudin!”

The genie stared, too, eyes wide, then filling with fascination as a slow smile spread over his features.

“Yes, I am Ranudin, Prince of the Djinn! But who are you, most beautiful creature?”

“I am Lakshmi, Princess of the Djinn!”

“Lakshmi?” Ranudin gawked. “But you were tiny, nearly a babe in arms when last I saw you!”

Lakshmi glanced at his chest and arms, and her face took on a look Matt knew only too well, a look that intensified as she looked up into Ranudin’s face. “That was half a thousand years ago, Prince, and I was not a babe, but a girl on the verge of womanhood.”

Now it was Matt who began muttering.

“You have crossed that verge indeed,” Ranudin breathed, with a glance that virtually caressed every inch of her.

Lakshmi felt his appreciation, and smiled lazily as her eyelids drooped. A moan swept through the officers of both nations as the full extent of her allure manifested.

“But all of this, O Prince, was before you disappeared from the sight of the djinn,” Lakshmi said. “Now, at least, we know why… some foul mortal sorcerer captured you in that jewel!”

“There have I slept away the centuries, wakened only twice before this to perform irksome tasks for midget mortals… then to sleep again, though my dreams have been restless.” Ranudin’s voice went husky. “And you have the shape of my dreams! Some magic bore your image to my sleeping mind!”

“As you have always been vivid in mine,” Lakshmi said from her throat.

Nirobus groaned.

“I have sought to amuse myself with lesser males, thinking you gone forever from the knowledge of the djinn.” Lakshmi turned her head a little away, smiling coquettishly and looking up at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Need I continue to amuse myself with such, O Prince?”

“No, never!” Ranudin breathed.

“Yes, never shall you see him again!” Nirobus reached up to touch the ruby. “Back into the gem, Prince Ran… ” He broke off with a howl of rage and frustration.

All eyes went to him… finally, for everyone had been watching the djinn… and saw that the cloth of his turban was empty, unadorned. Nirobus yanked it off and searched its folds frantically. “My ruby! It is gone! Where? How?”

Papa and Matt turned to stare at Callio.

The little thief held the huge gem up to the light, then grinned at Matt. “It is amazing what you can do when everyone is staring at something unusual.”

“Yes, amazing,” Papa agreed, his mouth dry.

Matt kept muttering.

“It is mine!” Nirobus cried, and came running at Callio.

But the little thief stepped up, holding the jewel high, crying, “Here, O Princess! A gift for your betrothal, if you choose that course!”

“I thank you, O Sleight of Hand.” Lakshmi reached down to pluck the jewel from his fingers, a split second before Nirobus barreled into him. Callio cried out; Papa leaped to pull him free; Nirobus collapsed into a moaning heap.

Lakshmi turned back to Ranudin with a teasing smile, weighing the jewel in her palm. “Must you now do whatever I desire, O Prince?”

“Princess,” Ranudin said in his huskiest tones, “I do not doubt that I shall choose to fulfill your desires in every way.”

Matt finished his chant and whispered to his parents, “He won’t have to, though.”

“I don’t think the issue will arise,” Mama told him.

“Then come,” Lakshmi said, “and let us discover the truth of your boasts.” She stepped into his arms, her own going up behind his neck, and he bent his head to kiss her. He was still kissing as dust boiled up about them, and their forms blurred to become one with the whirlwind… but just before Lakshmi’s head disappeared, she turned her face to say, “Thank you, wizard. Once more am I beholden to you.” Then even her features swam and blended with the motes about her. The whirlwind sprang high into the air and sailed away toward the south, and the desert.

“The Mediterranean coast always was a good place for a honeymoon,” Mama said.

“I wonder if the djinn bother with weddings?” Papa asked.

Matt turned to Callio. “I thought you were a failure as a thief.”

“Because I was always caught.” Callio shrugged. “I could not help myself, Lord Wizard. I felt the need to boast of my exploits in every tavern.”

Sir Guy stepped up to take Nirobus by the shoulder and pull him to his feet. “Come quietly, Doctor. Your magic can avail you nothing now.”

“Unhand me!” Nirobus cried, and struck Sir Guy’s hand away as he leaped back, leaped free. “Avail me nothing? Ignorant fools! Hearken to the song of doom!” He began to chant in Arabic, and Tafas cried out, doubling over in pain. His officers clustered around him with cries of concern, then screamed as he had and clutched their bellies.

Nirobus began to grow, his voice deepening, reverberating as he shifted into the language of Merovence.

Mama began to chant in Spanish.

“By cord, garrote, and pointed awl,” Nirobus shouted, “bind the tongues of women all!”

Mama’s voice turned into a sort of cawing, consonants without any vowels.

“Blind their eyes and bind their limbs!”

Nirobus cried.

‘Let all about me…

A voice cried out in delight, a war cry, and an old knight in rusted armor came charging on a spavined old plowhorse, swelling to match Nirobus’ giant size even as his mended lance centered on the sorcerer’s heart. Nirobus cried out in rage, his fist swelling into a boulder as he swung a blow at the ancient cavalier

… but the stone bounced off the brazen helmet, and the crooked lance struck squarely into Nirobus’ chest. There was a crack of thunder, a blinding flash of light, and when the afterimages cleared, both knight and sorcerer were gone, leaving only a charred patch of stone behind.

“But I thought he was only a fiction!” Mama protested, wide-eyed.

“He is the incarnation of a spirit that is always abroad throughout the world, my love,” Papa said, his arm around her, “but most particularly here.”

“Then was Nirobus a spirit, too?” Matt wondered.

He was very glad when no one answered.

Tafas may have been horrified at seeing his “holy hermit” revealed as a cynical powermonger, and may have been chagrined at having let himself be hoodwinked and exploited, but he couldn’t back away completely and keep the respect of his troops. “My men, too, have bled and died, King Rinaldo,” he said, chin set stubbornly. “I cannot let those deaths be for nothing, cannot let my soldiers go home with no gain.”

“But the land you have taken is not rightfully yours,” Rinaldo said gently, “and if I do not take it back now, my descendants will.”

He left unspoken that the price of that taking would be blood and death. Tafas glared at him, determined not to be overawed by age and experience.

They sat in an open-sided pavilion with Matt, Alisande, and Sir Guy… an open pavilion in an open field, with the Moorish army watching from one side and the combined forces of Merovence and Ibile from the other. Their chairs were folding hourglass-shapes standing on a Moorish carpet. Between them stood a low table with tiny cups of thick Moorish coffee and goblets of burgundy. Tafas had been pleasantly surprised when Matt had chosen the coffee with every sign of delight.

“Our forefathers’ land, at least, you will not deny us!” Tafas snapped, “not the province that Moors have held these five hundred years!”

“No, my lord, I never sought to push you back across the Straits,” Rinaldo said mildly. “But the lands you yourself have taken belong to my people. Will you see them go homeless and poor for the sake of your pride?”

“For the sake of my people, you mean! And what of those folk of Ibile who have chosen to convert to Islam? I must protect them, must I not?”

“How many of them are there?” Rinaldo asked.

“I have bid my scribes keep careful count,” Tafas snapped. “Four thousand three hundred fifty-seven of your subjects have embraced the True Faith!”

“Four thousand is enough to fill a small city,” Matt pointed out. That was true, in medieval terms.

Rinaldo looked up with a smile. “Which small city did you have in mind?”

“Aldocer!” Tafas leaped on the notion with eagerness. “It is only a hundred miles from our Moorish province! Let us have Aldocer with the land between it and Gibraltar for our own!”

“All the Christians could leave if they wished,” Alisande pointed out. “All the Muslims could go to Aldocer, or if they still wished to farm, to the lands the Christians have vacated.”

“You would have to pay those expelled Christians for their land,” Rinaldo said to Tafas.

The young man frowned. “We have already paid, in blood!”

“But gold is worth far less,” Matt suggested. “Give them a little gold, too, Lord Tafas, or they will be beggars. Does not the Koran insist you give alms?”

“If it is alms… ” Tafas mused.

“You would have to guarantee the safety of the Christians who wished to stay,” Rinaldo stated, “and their freedom to worship as they pleased, and not be oppressed for it.”

“We of the Faith have always given our protection to the People of the Book,” Tafas told him.

“Then you won’t mind giving him your pledge in writing, my lord,” Matt said.

Tafas turned to him with a frown. “Why should you Christians be so generous?”

Matt didn’t think it was the right time to explain saving face. “Ibile can reap huge benefits from your Moors, milord. The Arabian Empire is bringing fascinating new knowledge from India and Greece, is it not?”

“So my scholars say, yes.” Tafas was wary of compliments.

“And fabulous tales, beautiful paintings and miniatures, breathtaking architecture.” Matt turned to Rinaldo and Alisande. “They have brought a new system of numbers from India, have invented a new form of mathematics called al gebr, and have made a great number of advances in medicine. Besides, their merchants are sailing down the coasts of Africa and India and bringing back silks, pearls, and delectable spices, not to mention gold, ivory, and ebony!”

“Oh, mention them.” Alisande smiled, amused. “Do mention them.” She turned to Rinaldo. “So Moorish merchants in Ibile can trade with their counterparts from Arabia, Majesty, and trade again with merchants of your own.”

“Yes, a most profitable trade, I doubt not!” Rinaldo said heartily. “I might even develop a taste for this ‘coffee’ of yours, Lord Tafas.”

“I already have,” Matt said emphatically. “I’m tempted to kidnap one of your officers, Lord Tafas, just so I can ransom him for his weight in coffee beans!”

Tafas smiled. “I shall see that twelve pounds are sent to you each month, Lord Wizard, in thanks for the service you have done me in unmasking Nirobus.”

Matt groaned with pleasure.

Tafas turned to Rinaldo. “It is a good settlement, my lord, and might last as long as you and I live, but certainly no longer. Your armies will try to push my Moors back across the Straits someday… it is inevitable.”

“That is the only major natural boundary, yes,” Rinaldo agreed.

“Also, my descendants will wish to expand, and I will not be there to forbid it… nor, in loyalty to my faith, would I wish to.”

Rinaldo scowled.

“I don’t think your heirs will mind,” Matt said quickly, “as long as the Moors expand by purchasing their land… and swear allegiance to the King of Ibile.”

Rinaldo turned to him in astonishment, then began to smile.

Matt turned to Tafas. “Trade may take longer than conquest, my lord… but it’s much cheaper, and far more profitable.”

“You would not mind having Moors among your subjects?” Tafas asked in astonishment.

“Certainly not, if they will fight side by side with my Christians when Ibile is attacked.” Rinaldo took fire at the idea. “They are doughty soldiers in war, and as the Lord Wizard says, they may enrich the land wonderfully in culture and commerce.”

Tafas’ face took on a cagey look. “Would you grant such Moorish citizens the same rights and protections that you have asked for Christians in my domain?”

“Of course,” Rinaldo said instantly.

Tafas looked doubtful… but also very hopeful.

“Maybe the prosperity of Moorish trade can pay back your people for their losses in this war,” Matt said to Rinaldo. Privately, he hoped the people of Ibile might develop a vested interest in having Moorish countrymen… literally vested, if they had the good sense to invest in Moorish businesses. “Conquest by gold instead of armies?” Tafas stared in amazement “What a splendid idea!”

Looking into his eyes, Matt felt a chill. The military genius was about to become an economic genius.

The Japanese weren’t supposed to develop that technique for another five hundred years… or was it the American fruit companies? Well, come to think of it, the British East India Company came first. Matt felt a lot better. He was only jumping history by four hundred years now. Aloud, he said, “Yes, Lord Tafas. If all else fails and the people of Ibile insist on getting their whole peninsula back, maybe they can work out a gradual retreat and buy-back plan.”

Tafas grinned, and Rinaldo said, “Let us hope it will not come to that, Lord Wizard. I think we may prove good neighbors after all, Lord Tafas.”

So the two armies parted with protestations of goodwill, trying to forget the dead they had just buried.

Tafas led his Moors back to the south, Rinaldo bade his noblemen march home and reclaim their castles, and Alisande’s army marched back to Bordestang. Alisande was delighted to find her capital intact, even though Mama had told her the whole tale of the siege. She heaped gratitude and praises on the older woman, then rode down to release the Moorish prisoners and send them marching to the coast under guard. They entered the city and were pelted with flowers. The people cheered the victors as they rode up to the castle, where Saul stood grinning on the drawbridge with Angelique beside him. Alisande kissed them both, then insisted on knighting Saul no matter what he said… he had refused the honor before… then rode into her castle singing the joy of homecoming. Matt lingered on the drawbridge to talk with Saul and his parents. “I have a little problem called Callio. We can’t just turn him loose to end up in jail again.”

“Amazing that he does,” Papa said, “when he is such an accomplished thief… but he cannot help boasting of his successes.”

Mama brightened. “So it is not the stealing that matters to him, only the acclaim?”

Matt nodded. “Starved for attention. You think he’s a klepto?”

“No, a natural entertainer!” Mama declared. “He already knows sleight of hand… let him learn to be a conjurer!”

“And an escape artist?” Papa nodded, smiling. “We will help him invent vaudeville!”

“Why not?” Matt grinned. “I’m sure he can do it, with a little financial support from the castle.” Then he grew serious “But we have another problem. Can we all meet tomorrow morning in the middle of the courtyard at first light?”

Papa and Mama exchanged a glance Mama said “Of course, if need be… “

“Sure,” Saul said. “Why?”

“We need to close off the connection to our home universe,” Matt explained. “Well, you might leave a thread,” Papa qualified. Mama nodded “Only between this castle and your post office box, Mateo. We do, after all, wish to send a few Christmas cards.”

The next day, Mama entertained Alisande alone, in the chambers the queen had appointed for the use of Mama and Papa Mantrell. Mama poured and handed a demitasse to her daughter-in law. “It is nowhere nearly as strong as the Moors brew it, Majesty, and is well diluted with cream and sweetened with honey. Humor me by drinking of it.”

“I will,” Alisande said, “if you will call me ‘Alisande’ when we are alone.”

Mama’s smile was pure sunshine. “I shall be delighted, my dear.”

Alisande tasted, and looked up in surprise. “Why, it is delicious when it is not so strong and muddy!”

“Is it not? But we must drink it only as a rare treat… too much of it can be bad for you.”

“Too much of anything can be bad for a person,” Alisande said wryly, “except possibly love.” She looked up at Mama anxiously. “I hope you do not have to leave for your home too soon, Lady Mantrell.”

“Jimena,” Mama said firmly, “though I would be quite complimented if you called me ‘Mama,’ as Matt does.”

Alisande tried to keep her smile in place while she dissolved inside. “As you wish Mama! But you must make this a long visit, so that I will have time to practice!”

“Well, as to that… ” Mama straightened in her chair a little, avoiding her eyes. “In our own world, my dear, Papa and I are quite ordinary folk; even though our educations should win us a fair amount of respect, they do not.”

“You will have great respect here,” Alisande said firmly, “even awe from the common folk.”

“We have felt that,” Mama said, smiling. “It is a very pleasant feeling. And our house in New Jersey, though pleasant enough, was not even as spacious as those of your merchants. Besides, Papa has no business now, and no job, nor have I.”

“Then why not stay here?” Alisande said anxiously.

“That is exactly what Ramon and I were asking ourselves last night,” Mama told her. “We could not think of a good answer.”

Alisande stiffened. “Does that mean you wish to remain here? Forever?”

“Well, at least as long as we live,” Mama said apologetically, “if you will have us.”

“I would be delighted!” Alisande rose from her chair to throw her arms about her mother-in-law.

Surprised, Mama hugged her back, then tightened her embrace as she realized Alisande was shaking.

“Why, poor child, you are weeping!” She held the Queen of Merovence in her arms for ten minutes, murmuring the sort of soothing inanities that come only to mothers.

At last Alisande straightened and stepped away, smiling and wiping her eyes. “You must forgive me, milady Mama. It must be the stress of this little war.”

“A queen is always subject to great stress,” Mama said, voice firm but sympathetic. “You must be able to weep with someone, my dear, or you will explode with your feelings.”

“Yes. I thank you.” Alisande smiled and sat again, taking another sip of the coffee. Its bite helped restore her. “Dare I hope, though, that your new grandchild has something to do with your decision to stay?”

“The child, and his mother,” Mama told her, smiling gently. “Family is the true vocation of both Papa and myself, my dear, far more important to us than anything else… and since both my parents and Papa’s have passed away, and Matt is our only child, and our new daughter-in-law is so very nice… Well, of course!” Then she stared, facts suddenly connecting. “The tears… It is not only the stress of the campaign that has brought you to weeping, is it?”

Alisande stared at her. “How did you know?”

“You forget, my dear, that I have been there before you! Come now, no hiding the truth! Out with it!”

“Well, yes.” Alisande looked down into her coffee. “I cannot be sure yet, but I think that you shall have another grandchild before next summer’s heat.”

“And you went on campaign!” Mama cried, then seized a cushion and tucked it behind Alisande’s head, pulled a hassock over and propped the queen’s feet on it. “You must be sure to dine well now, though not too much… that old wives’ tale about eating for two has caused many women to gain weight they could lose only with great difficulty! And no wine, or at least only a little! How foolish I was, to introduce you to coffee! And you must not worry, you must leave as much as possible to your ministers, and anything they cannot manage, you must assign to Papa and myself… “

Her voice flowed on, and her hands were very soothing as they massaged temples, touched wrist to measure pulse, tucked a lap robe about her… all completely unnecessary, of course, but Alisande leaned back and luxuriated in the attention, deciding that it really was very nice to have a mother again.