The Flying Sorcerers

The great black moon waited for us, shedding yellow light on the sand.

“I never thought he could do it,” Orbur kept repeating as he pulled the boat onto the shore. “Imagine Shoogar bringing down a moon! And he couldn’t even cure baldness.”

“Perhaps he had help,” I said, jumping out of the boat, splashing into ankle-deep water. “Orbur,” I complained. “Couldn’t you have beached it a little higher? Look at my robe.”

“Sorry, Father,” said Orbur. He. gave another tug at his outrigger. “You think Purple brought the moon down?”

“Not by himself. Obviously he had to wait for Shoogar’s spells. But they both wanted the same thing: a falling moon and Purple’s departure. Two such powerful magicians working in concert, is it surprising that they succeeded?”

Wilville came up on the other side of me. There was a splash from behind as Shoogar stamped grumpily from the boat. We turned to look at him.

He returned our stare, pulled himself up to his full height of half a manlength, and stamped forward. He brushed imperiously past us.

“Shoogar!” I called.

He stopped, folded his arms and surveyed the giant glowing sphere at the top of the hill. As I came up beside him, he said, “Let him keep my moon, then, if it will take him home! My oath binds me to drive him from my territory, and that I have certainly done!”

“Well said,” I bellowed, “you’re a generous magician, Shoogar!”

With not another word the four of us trudged up the hill to where Purple waited. His mood was one of frantic impatience — but the lines of worry seemed to have vanished from his face and he beamed with a smile as wide as the world.

We approached cautiously. That great dark mass hung over us like the Doom of the Gods, and we could see nothing holding it up. It was no windbag, that was for certain — it neither behaved nor looked like one.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Purple. “It’s safe.”

We advanced into the cone of the peculiar yellow light that poured from Purple’s moon. It was that same colour that turned green into something eye-hurtingly bright, and I wondered how anyone could stand it for long. The moon towered brightly above us, seeming as high as Idiot’s Crag, perhaps higher.

Shoogar leaned back, back as far as he could, to peer up at its height. Absent-mindedly, he brought out a cavernmouth egg and began scratching a rune into it.

Purple reached behind him then — I noticed a huge stack of items lying there — and handed Orbur a new battery. It was identical with the one Purple had used to charge our windbags, but this one, Purple said, was fully powered. There was no danger at all of our running it down. It would fill more windbags than we could make before it would even begin to weaken. “It has enough power to make a dozen Journeys like this, Lant. This dial, Orbur, shows you how much power you have left in it. This knob controls the rate at which you use it.”

He handed the device to Wilville to examine, and reached behind him for another. This was a large box with a hinged opening on its top. “This is a chest of emergency rations. I have given you five of them. There is enough food here for a one-month journey.” He shoved the box forward and reached again. We crowded forward, interestedly. These are blankets, of course,” said Purple. “You will need new ones for the upper atmosphere and — let’s see, what else?”

He rummaged happily through his pile, presenting things to Wilville and Orbur. One by one he would hand them to the boys, who would pass them on to me. After examining each one, I put them in a stack behind me. His pile shrank while ours grew.

Shoogar was not at all interested. He kept wandering around and around the base of the giant egg, scratching runes on the cavernmouth rind.

“Here are the flashlights, and this is a simple medkit. I have labeled the sprays in here that you will want to use for hairlessness and things. You should be careful with this, even though there’s nothing here that can kill you.” Purple picked up one or two last items, meaningless things. One was a flat folder of odd pictures — Purple called it a book — we would have to examine it later. But Shoogar gasped when he saw it, “Spell images!”

Purple tried to convince him that they were not, but Shoogar wouldn’t listen. No matter. Few of the images made sense anyway. After a while, Shoogar tossed the book in with the other stuff and went back to his egg marking.

At last there was only one item left, a shapeless mass of glimmering white. Purple didn’t even try to pick it up, it seemed too big for that. He merely pointed at it. “I think you will find this the most useful of all.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“A new windbag,” he said. He smiled. “I am afraid that the ones we made weren’t as good as I thought. They hardly lasted the journey. One is already ripped, and I fear the rest will rip too. My friends — and I know you are my friends —”

Behind me Shoogar snorted.

“I want your journey home to be as pleasant as mine. This windbag is used for weather testing on strange worlds. It will be big enough to hold your weights. Use it with your other windbags, and you should be able to make it home.”

Orbur was already examining it eagerly. The material was light and transparent and thinner than anything we had ever seen. There’s no weave!” he exclaimed. “Wilville, come look at this!”

But Wilville had disappeared. A moment later he came panting up the hill. “This is a terrible place to park a moon,” he gasped. “Why couldn’t you have guided it lower.”

“Where were you?”

He indicated his laden arms. “I have brought Purple a gift too.” He held out his hands. “An aircloth blanket, Purple, and — and a sack of ballast. Just in case. You might need it.”

Purple was visibly moved. He took the bulging sack and held it tenderly, like a child. His eyes were moist, but there \vas a smile on his face. He allowed Wilville to drape the blanket over his arm. Thank you,” he said, “these are fine gifts.” His voice choked as he said it.

He turned to me. “Lant, thank you for everything. Thank you for your help, for being such a fine Speaker. I — wait, I have something for you.” He disappeared up into his moon.

Almost immediately, he reappeared; he had stowed our gifts and carried something else. A sphere, with strange knobs and protrusions on it. “Lant, this is for you —”

“What is it?” I took it curiously. It was heavy — as heavy as a small child.

“It is your Speaker’s token. I know Shoogar never had time to make one for you. I hope he will not mind if I present you with this. See there — that is my name in the markings of my own language. You are the Speaker of the Purple magician.”

I was confused, shocked, delighted, horrified — a tumble of emotions poured across my mind. “I — I —”

“Don’t say anything, Lant. Just take it. It is a special token. It will be recognized and honoured by any of my people who should ever again come to this world. And should I ever return it makes you my official Speaker. Keep it, Lant.”

I nodded dumbly and staggered back with it.

Finally, Purple turned to Shoogar who had stood patiently throughout this all.

“Shoogar,” he said, extending his empty hands. “I have nothing to give you. You are too great a magician for me to insult you. I cannot offer you anything at all that you do not already have, and for me to presume that I can would be an affront to your skill and greatness.”

Shoogar’s jaw dropped. He almost dropped his egg — then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “No gift?” he asked. I didn’t know whether to feel hurt or pleased for him.

“Only this,” said Purple, “and it is one that you cannot carry with you, it is already there. I leave you the two villages. You are now the official magician there.”

Shoogar stared at him wide-eyed. Purple stood there, tall and impressive. In that peculiar-colored light, he looked almost a God himself. No longer the pudgy, almost comical figure who had terrorized us for so many months. Suddenly he seemed a kind of nobility itself: generous, loving, all-knowing.

Shoogar managed to say, “You admit it — you admit that I am a greater magician?”

“Shoogar, I admit it. You know more about the magic and the Gods of this world than anyone — including me. You are the greatest — and you have your flying machine now.” He looked at all of us then, a great friendly figure. “I will miss you,” he whispered. “All of you. Even you, Shoogar. And your duels.”

And with that he rose up into his moon and vanished.

The yellow light glowed brighter for a second, then winked out.

The moon vanished as silently as it had come, rising, rising, ever upward, dwindling, shrinking; snapping brilliant for a second, and then vanishing altogether.

Shoogar was so startled he almost forgot his cavernmouth egg spell. Hurriedly, he bit into it with a noisy chomp.

He started choking then, and we had to pound him hard on the back before he would stop.