Wizard of the winds

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Safar knew there was something wrong before the first performance.

The crowds greeting them were enthusiastic enough, as were the soldiers who directed them to the field outside the city gates. The roustabouts set the circus up in record time and the seats for the first show were sold out before the ticket booth was in place.

The good citizens of Sampitay were so hungry for entertainment they lined up, begging to be relieved of the price of admission, while the Cloudship was still unloading. Methydia's troupe was forced to give a hasty first performance, cutting the encores short so an impatient second audience could be admitted.

No art was required to please them. They roared laughter at the slightest clown antic, gasped in terror at the merest slip of an acrobat, moaned in suspense at Methydia's and Safar's slightest magical gesture.

Oddly enough the troupe was discontented.

"I could fart and get a laugh, Biner complained.

"I could whistle through my fangs and they'd be thrilled, Elgy said.

"They're tho eathy I want to thpit, Arlain said. And the godth know what happenth when I thpit!"

Green as he was, Safar felt a wrongness in the overly-wild applause he received when he cast the first purple-colored smoke pellet that began his performance. He sensed an hysterical edge to the crowd's huzzahs.

During his mind reading act he announced a maid named Syntha was to be wed soon and her love would always be true. The young woman in question shrieked such joy at this newswhich Safar had received courtesy of a big-eared roustaboutthe entire audience was reduced to tears.

"What's wrong with them? he asked Methydia between performances.

Methydia smiled thinly. She seemed distracted, applying her makeup with a heavy hand. Are you so accustomed to applause, she asked, that you've already begun to question it?"

"Come on, Safar said. I'm not the only one. Elgy said the last time he played before an audience like this it turned out his troupe had wandered into the middle of a plague."

"The fear of death, Methydia said, does have a way of exciting people's interest in life."

"Do you know something the rest of us don't? Safar asked, growing irritated.

"Only this, Methydia said, passing him a large ornate card with a distinctive seal of gold wax. We are to give a command performance tonight for Queen Arma and her royal consort."

Safar looked at the card, an honor at any other time, and said, Why is this bad news?"

"Because it was accompanied by a chest of silk, Methydia said. And that silk, according to the messenger who delivered it, is an advance payment on a week's worth of free performances for the queen's subjects."

"A morale booster? Safar asked.

"I'm talking about a dozen bolts of the finest Sampitayan silk, Methydia said.

Safar, who'd spent his life on a caravan route, had a good idea what that was worth. How much morale-boosting do they need? he said. And why?"

"I don't know, Methydia answered. The messenger was quite polite, but he worked hard to avoid answering my questions. It was as if he expected us to pack up and leave at the slightest hint of trouble. He went on for an hour about what a wonderful ruler Arma was, the excellent health of her children, the esteem all her subjects hold her in. And the soundness of her kingdom."

Safar winced. In Walaria he'd learned to read fear on the face of royal posture. Maybe we'd better go, he said.

"I've arrived at the same conclusion, Methydia said. I told the messenger we had pressing business elsewhere. And we couldn't stay longer than the week purchased by Her Majesty."

Safar, remembering the incident at Kyshaat, said, What if we slipped off tonight?"

"I've also considered that course, Methydia said. Much can happen in a week. But I don't think we dare cut our visit too short. We might bring down the wrath of Queen Arma by making a hasty exit. I think it'd be best if we gave the queen the command performance she asked for, then quietly loaded the circus back on the Cloudship. We can do without some of the sets. And make it look like we're unloading things while we're actually putting them aboard. Three nights, no more, and we'll be on our way."

"But the queen paid in advance, Safar pointed out. What about all that silk?"

"I'll leave it behind, Methydia said. It's bad money and I don't want any part of it."

As it turned out three days was too long. The circus overshot its luck the night of the command performance.

Knowing she was going to abandon Sampitay as soon as possible, Methydia roused the troupe to put on its best show ever.

Safar, drawing on his years of schooling in Walaria, had created a new kind of magical lighting. The circus tried out his ideas for the first time the night Queen Arma held court in the main tent.

A blazing full moon greeted the royal visitors as they entered the tent. Safar made the moon a spotlight, picking out the grand moment of each performance, then dimmed it with onrushing clouds during costume changes. Flares burst up in the arena during the featured performances, turning all into a mystical herky-jerky of amazing motion.

To close the first half Safar and Arlain debuted a new act they'd been working on for some time.

From the time of its inceptionwhich had merely been to improve on the old saw the maid in half gagthe trick had grown into a full-blown tale. Safar cast himself as the villain of the piecean evil wizard. Arlain and Biner were the odd loversthe ugly dwarf and the beautiful creature who was part woman, part dragon.

In the story Safar hunts the lovers in bleak otherworlds full of swirling lights, fountaining smoke and spurting flames. Eventually he corners them, appears to slay Biner, then captures Arlain. She fights off his attempts to ravish her but is punished by being put into a deadly trance. In that trance Safar levitates her, then proceeds to slice her in two with his sword. Defiant to the last, Arlain breathes fire. Then the fire is gone. Suddenly Biner is aroused. He heals Arlain. A fight commences. And in the end the two lovers defeat Safar and embrace. Then a lovely note piped by Elgy and Rabix brings the lights down.

Tears and cheers greeted the three performers when they took their bows.

Despite his worries, Safar was feeling mightily pleased with himself as he rushed off to get ready for the second act. The high wail of a herald's horn brought him up short. He turned, alarmed at this sudden interruption of circus routine.

In the royal box Queen Arma was on her feet. In front of her was a boy dressed in the elaborate livery of a court herald. At a signal from the queen he raised his horn and blew againcommanding all present to be silent and attend to the queen.

Arma was a middle-aged woman, running to fat. She had a round pleasant face made to seem rounder still by the tall forepeaked crown she wore. Sitting beside her was her consort, Prince Crol, a handsome, silver-haired man in the glittering dress uniform of a general. The queen drew in her breath to speak and just before the first words issued from her lips Safar saw the soldier gesture and felt the sting of magic. He knew immediately the man was a wizard and the gesture was a magical spell to amplify the queen's words so all could hear.

"Citizens of Sampitay, Queen Arma said, high-pitched voice filling the main tent. I am sure we are all having a lovely time tonight, are we not?"

The richly dressed crowd answered with loud applause. Arma turned her head, nodding at Methydia who stood near the performers exitregal-looking in her own right in a dazzling red gown and slender tiara, decorated with a tasteful spattering of gems.

"We have the good Lady Methydia and her talented troupe of entertainers to thank for bringing a bit a joy to Sampitay during its crisis, the queen said.

Methydia bowed low, but from the stiffness of her bow Safar could see she was as surprised as he at the queen's remarks. And what was that Arma said about a crisis?"

"As you all well know, Arma continued, your queen and her representatives have been in almost constant communication with King Protarus and his emissaries for over a month now."

The crowd murmured, troubledas was Safar at the mention of his old friend's name.

"We have kept you all well informed regarding the nature of those communications, Arma said. The first message was a demand that this kingdom end its long and historic policy of neutrality. Protarus commanded itand it would be wrong of us to use a weaker word to pretty up his barbaric diplomacy. Our answer to that outrage was a firm although courteous reply that this queen is not his to command!"

A thunderclap of applause greeted this statement. Safar thought of Iraj and knew it would have been unlikely for him to take the queen's refusal well.

"Shortly afterward, Arma went on, Protarus emissaries arrived with new demands. He was no longer asking us to ally ourselves with him against his enemies. Instead, he commanded our immediate surrender. He even gave us this… and Safar saw her raise up a familiar banner, bearing the red demon moon and silver comet that was the sign of Alisarrian…to hoist over the palace, marking our subjugation."

The crowd reacted angrily, shouting words of defiance.

Queen Arma waited until the shouts died down, then said loudly, We refused!"

More shouts and thunderous applause. The queen waited, then at a key moment she signaled for silence.

"It would dishonest of me, my loyal subjects, Arma said, if we didn't admit our nights were long and sleepless with worry after we made that reply. King Protarus, whose armies now range at will across the Plains of Jaspar, is not known to brook any defiance from any kingdom or monarch whom he deems to stand in his way. Fearing reprisals, we put our own troops in a state of readiness. We were prepared to die to the last defending the sanctity of our realm."

Pandemonium reigned for many long minutes as the crowd roared its approval.

When they had quieted, Arma said, Tonight it is our supreme pleasure to announce to you the gods have stood firm with the good and righteous people of Sampitay."

She'd dropped the banner and was now holding up a long slender parchment roll.

"This is the latest communication from Protarus, she said. I received it only this morning.

"Apparently the young King Protarus has seen the error of his ways. He now understands the value and rightness of our neutrality. He has taken back all his demands and now only asksquite politely, I might addthat we sell his army badly needed supplies at a fair price."

The queen's news charged the crowd into an even greater fever. They shouted joy until they were hoarse, applauded until their fingers were numb.

Then Arma said, What say you, my loyal subjects? Shall we be magnanimous in our victory? Shall we show King Protarus what civilized people are like?"

Shouts of agreement sealed the bargain. People wept and clutched one another, praising the gods for coming to their aid in this time of need.

In the middle of the chaos, Safar crept over to Methydia. This isn't good, he said. I know Iraj. He'd never back down so easily."

Methydia nodded. Safar had told her about his boyhood friendship with Protarus and the vision he'd had of Iraj's conquering army. He'd left out only the fight with the demons.

"We'll finish this show and make ready to leave, she said, not bothering to lower her voice in the din of all those tearful, joyous people. We'll depart at dawn, she continued. The whole city will be so sick with from celebrating no one will notice."

They completed the show, although the whole troupesensing the wrongness in the airwas much subdued. The queen thanked them when it was over and rewarded Methydia with more bolts of rich Sampitayan silk.

It wasn't easy to make preparations to slip away. There were so many well-wishers and celebrants about the troupe could do little more than pack their things and place them as close to the Cloudship as possible. The roustabouts were given strict orders to rouse everyone an hour before dawn so they could board the Cloudship and flee.

They slept in the tents that night, their most important belongings close at hand so they could make a hasty exit.

"I wish I could send a message to Iraj, Safar said as he and Methydia settled down for a few hours sleep.

"What would you say? Methydia asked, wiping away the last vestiges of her makeup with a damp sponge. Spare the city? Or just spare us? She gave him a cynical look. I'd like to know the proper way to appeal to a blood-thirsty barbarian."

Safar shook his head. Iraj is no barbarian, he said.

"You saw the burned cities, Methydia said, the refugees by the thousands. If that isn't barbaric, I'd like to know what is."

"The whole world is barbaric as far as I'm concerned, Safar said, growing angry. Iraj is no more a savage than those who confront him. Walaria is supposed to be the civilized center of Esmir. There's nothing but self-serving cutthroats in command there. Look at Sampitay. It's not much better. Queen Arma and her court have their silk trade, their riches. But what of the common folk? They are as poor and put upon as the people of Walaria."

"Perhaps King Protarus is merely ill-advised, Methydia said coolly. Perhaps he didn't notice all the misery we saw in our journey. Misery caused by his armies."

Safar was silent for a moment, thinking about what she'd said; trying to sort out his boyhood from his adulthood.

"I haven't seen Iraj for a long time, he finally said, but I don't think he could have changed so much. There was good at the heart of him."

"Maybe you were that good, Methydia said. Maybe your presence brought out whatever finer feelings he had."

"Iraj is his own man, Safar insisted. The good I saw was his own. It needed nothing from me. He's also a warrior born and although I disagree with his methods, in the end Iraj is seeking a better place than we have now.

"Iraj didn't make the droughts, the plagues or the horrors like the worm at Kyshaat. He didn't make the old kings and nobles who are as great a plague on Esmir as the ones nature sends us."

"Still, Methydia said, you're as anxious to get out of the way of his wrath as I am."

"Armies have no heart, Safar said. And it's Iraj's army we'll see first. Queen Arma was fool enough to defy him. His soldiers will have their orders to make an example of Sampitay. And I don't want us to be in their way."

"Are you really so unfeeling about the plight of these people, Safar, Methydia asked. Am I seeing a side of you I never noticed before because I was so smitten?"

Safar took her hand. She let him, but her manner was wary. What can I do? he asked, and there was so much pain in his voice her wariness vanished. Tell me and I'll do it at once."

"Speak to Iraj, she said. Reason with him."

Safar thought about her request for a time. He felt he was at the edge of a cliff. At the bottom was a world he wanted to escape. A world of petty kings and wizards. A world where girls like Nerisa died for no good reason. And then he thought of all the maids and lads in Sampitay who would suffer Nerisa's fate, or worse, when Iraj's soldiers came. Methydia squeezed his hand. He took strength from it and made his decision.

"We'll go find Iraj in the morning, he said. He grinned, but it was such a sad grin that Methydia ached for him. He shouldn't be hard to find. We'll just look for the largest army."

Methydia held back tears and embraced him. They made love, clinging to one another as if they were the last people in the world.

Then they fell asleep.

Safar dreamed of Hadin. He danced with the beautiful people, all cares wiped away by the rhythm of their drums.

Then the volcano exploded with such violence that he was hurled far out to sea. He was suddenly without the ability to swim. He pawed madly at the water, trying to stay afloatburning embers raining down on him.

And then a familiar voice urged, Wake up, Master! Wake up!"

Safar's eyes snapped open. Gundara was perched on his chest, sharp little teeth chattering in fear. Safar blinked, thinking he was still dreaming. The last time he'd checked the stone idolwhich he always kept near himit'd seemed like there was barely any magical life inside.

Then he felt the Favorite's weight on his chest and although it was slight, it was very real.

"Where did you come from? Safar asked.

Gundara ignored the question. They're coming, Master! he said, hopping onto the floor. Hurry! Before it's too late!"

Safar heard sounds of fighting outside and came fully awake. He scrabbled for the knife he kept under his pillow and rolled to his feet. Realizing he was naked, he hastily pulled on clothes. The turtle fell out of his tunic pocket and bounced on the earthen floor. Gundara instantly disappeared into it. Then he heard Methydia cry out from the bed and he shouted for her to stay down. He scooped up the turtle and thrust it into his pocket just as the soldiers burst through the tent opening.

Safar didn't give them a chance to get set, but charged directly into them. He dodged a blow and sank his blade into softness. He heard a gasp, tried to pull his knife free, but it stuck. Behind him Methydia screamed a warning and he let the knife go, ripping the sword out of his victim's dying grasp.

He whirled, striking out blindly. He didn't have time or room to turn the blade so only the flat of it struck his attacker. But the force of his blow was so great it sent the soldier reeling back, exposing his belly. Once again Safar felt soft flesh give under his weapon. He didn't wait to see the man fall, but turned again as other soldiers crowded through the tent opening.

He attacked with such fury they fell over each other to escape his wrath. Then he jumped back, heaved up a chest he'd normally have needed help to lift, and hurled it through the opening. Satisfying yelps of pain told him that he'd hit his target.

Methydia was out of the bed now, hastily drawing on a robe.

"This way, he shouted, slashing at the rear of the tent. The cloth parted and they pushed through the opening.

The night was a mad thing of screams and clashing armor and weapons. Fire raged whichever way they turned.

Methydia clutched him, pointing. Safar turned to see her glorious Cloudship going up in flames.

There was an explosion and the Cloudship became a shatter of burning wood splinters and smoldering cloth. Methydia sagged and he caught her in his arms.

Mailed horsemen charged out of the boiling smoke, flailing about with curved blades that cut anyone down who got in their way.

A banner, carried by the lead horseman, fluttered over them. It bore the ancient symbol of the demon moon and silver comet.

The warriors were shouting, For Protarus!"

Six horsemen split off from the group and rushed toward Safar. He let Methydia drop to his feet, and grasped his sword in both hands.

He made a spell of strength and power surged through his body until he felt like a giant. He made a spell of sharpness and sliced the air with his blade. It shimmered with the force of his blow.

Then the horsemen were on him. He cut the legs out from under the first steed, slew its rider, then leaped on the horse's body to confront the rest.

A spear floated toward him and he ducked it easily, coming up to deal a death blow to the one who'd hurled it. A huge man with a black beard struck at him with a scimitar. Safar parried and the man's bearded mouth became a wide O as Safar's sword pierced his throat. Then there was a horseman behind him and he whirled just as the soldier's mount trampled on Methydia's prone body.

Safar howled in fury and leaped at the man, his weight carrying horse, soldier and himself to the ground. The quarters were too close to swing his blade, so he hammered at the soldier with the haft of his sword, crushing the helmet.

Then he was up again, parrying the next blow, killing the next man.

He fought for what seemed like an eternity. But no matter how many he struck down, there were always others crowding in to take him.

Then there was a sudden respite and he was swinging at empty air. Cutting back and forth, meeting nothing, but still slashing, still fighting, as if there were invisible devils all around him.

He stopped, finally realizing no enemy was within reach.

Safar looked up and all was a haze in his battle-lust view. Then he saw a grizzled old veteran mounted on a warhorse about ten paces away. Safar's head swiveled. He was surrounded, but now instead of swords there were raised bows confronting him, arrows drawn backwaiting for the order to fire.

"You've done yourself proud, lad, the old veteran said. Now put your sword down and we'll spare you."

Safar grinned. He was covered with the gore of other men and made an awful sight.

Then, instead of tossing his sword down, he pushed it point first into the ground and leaned on it.

"Tell Iraj Protarus, he said loudly, that a friend awaits him. And begs the pleasure of his company."

The veteran reacted, surprised. And who might that friend be, lad?"

"Safar Timura of Kyrania, he replied. The man he once called his blood oath brother.

"The man who once saved his life."