Wizard of the winds

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was well past dawn when Iraj finally came.

The smoke and soot from the burning city was so thick it made the day more like night. The air was filled with the stench of death and the loud weeping of Sampitay's survivors as they were led out to meet their fates.

Safar was pacing within the same circle of bowmen. Although they'd lowered their weapons, he noted they were ready to lift them again and fire if he made a wrong move. They were all fierce plainsmen, small in stature, muscular in build, with misshapen legs from so many years on horseback. They wore flowing robes, cinched by wide leather belts bearing scimitars on one side, long daggers on the other. Their boots were felt, with sharp spurs strapped to them. They had turbans for head coverings, with steel caps beneath and most sported long, drooping mustaches, giving their dark faces a grim, determined look.

A small part of Safarthe child that weeps for its mother even at a great agequaked at the sight of them. The rest was armed with a cold, tightly-gripped rage he was ready to release at the slightest pretense.

The soldiers didn't know what to make of Safar. He was either the mightiest of liars or truly the king's blood oath brother. The only thing certain was Safar had more than proven himself as a warrior. It was for this reason, almost more than his claim of friendship with the king, that had stayed their hands. Safar had leaned heavily on their respect to rescue most of the members of the troupe and he'd bullied the old sergeant into letting them join him.

He used the circle like a shield, pacing the perimeter to keep it intact, pointing the tip of his sword accusingly at any soldier who dared stray closer. In the center the troupe was silently tending the unconscious Methydia. Safar feared for hershe'd been badly trampled by the warhorsebut he didn't dare show his concern in front of the bowmen. He knew it would be taken as a sign of weakness.

Then he heard a great horn blare and war drums beat a tattoo. Orders were shouted and the ring of bowmen suddenly parted.

A tall warrior mounted on a fiery black steed cantered down the path they made. He wore the pure white robes of a plains fighter. His head was wrapped in a white turban, with the tail pulled about his face like a mask.

The warrior pulled the horse up a few paces away. He studied Safar for a long moment, taking in the gore stained costume, bloody sword and soot-streaked face. Safar stared back, making as insolent a grin as he could manage. Finally the warrior's gaze came to Safar's eyes and there was a sudden jolt of recognition.

"Safar Timura, you blue-eyed devil, Iraj cried, sweeping away the mask, it is you!"

"In the flesh, Safar said, although as you can see that flesh is a little worse for wear and definitely in need of a bath."

Safar, remembering the first time he and Iraj had met, pointed at the soldiers and said, I think I could use a little help here. It seems I'm completely surrounded by the Ubekian brothers."

Iraj roared laughter. The Ubekian brothers! he shouted. What a sorry lot they were!"

Then, to the amazement of his soldiers, the king leaped off his horse and threw his arms around Safar, gore and all.

"By the gods I have missed you, Safar Timura, he shouted, pounding his old friend on the back. By the gods I have missed you!"

Iraj called for a mount and personally escorted Safar back to his command tentset on a hill overlooking Sampitay. When Safar indicated the unconscious Methydia and the others members of the troupe Iraj asked no questions about Safar's odd company, or even acted surprised. He immediately issued orders all were to be well cared for and the best healers summoned to tend to Methydia.

"And I want hourly reports on her progress, Iraj demanded. I don't want my good friend, Lord Timura, to worry unnecessarily."

Lord? Safar thought. How did a potter's son suddenly become a lord? He glanced at Iraj, saw the look of warning in his eyes and realized it wouldn't do for a king to have a blood oath brother who less than noble born.

During the ride back to his command post Iraj kept the conversation light, loudly regaling his aides and guard with exaggerated tales of his youthful adventures with Lord Timura."

"Why, if it weren't for Safar, he said, I wouldn't be here today. And you'd all be serving some other king, a weak-kneed, inbred bastard, no doubt. Someday I'll tell you the story of how he saved my life. You've already witnessed how bravely he fought here, so you can all rest assured it is a stirring tale that will take a long winter's evening to give it proper justice.

"But I will tell you this. After the battle the people of Kyrania were so grateful to us for saving them from that gang of bandits that they trotted out fifteen of their prettiest virgins for us to deflower."

He laughed. I gave up after five."

He turned to Safar. Or was it six?"

"Actually, it was seven, Safar answered.

Iraj's grin told him that he'd lied correctly.

"Seven it was, Iraj said. But that was nothing compared to my friend here. He deflowered the remaining eight, then strolled out of his tent, easy as you please, and announced he was still feeling peckish and wouldn't mind a few more."

The aides and guardsmen roared laughter and crowded in close to slap Safar on the back and praise his prowess as a fighter and lover.

"Mind you, Iraj said, he wasn't playing fair. Even as a boy Lord Timura was a mighty wizard. He confessed to me later that he had a secret potion for such occasions."

Again, Iraj turned to Safara frown of mock accusation on his face. If I recall, my friend, he said, you promised to supply me with some. A promise you never kept."

Safar held out a hand, palm up. I was hoping you had forgotten that, Your Highness, he said, adding the royal honorific for the first time and pleasing Iraj immensely. You see, there were only five virgins left in all Kyrania. And I didn't want us to quarrel over them."

More bawdy laughterled by the kinggreeted his clever reply. The royal party continued on and there were many manly jests and many manly boasts to mark the journey.

They wended their jocular way past scenes of incredible brutality. Sampitay's dead and wounded littered the battlefield. Captives, working under the stern direction of Iraj's fierce soldiers, piled the dead in mounds. Oil was poured on the corpses and they were set on fire; greasy black fumes, smelling like sacrificial sheep, rose to mix with the smoke of the burning city. Other soldiers moved across the field, slitting the throats of the groaning wounded. Thousands of civilians were being separated into groups of young and old, men and women. Construction crews were hammering together execution blocks for the aged and infirm. Sharp-eyed slavers were moving through the rest, drawing up estimates of the price each would bring and whether it would be worth the care and feeding they'd require.

Safar felt as if he were trapped in the worst kind of nightmareone that required him to wear a mask of light-hearted unconcern amid all that horror. And soaring above that was the dark raven of his fear for Methydia.

Although Iraj had greeted him warmlyas if only a few months rather than years had separated themSafar didn't let down his guard. His old friend had the same easy, open manner. Other than the beard he looked much the same as before. His manner was casually royal, but it had always been so. He'd also matured. With the beard, which Safar suspected Iraj had grown to look older, he appeared to be in his thirtieth summer, rather than in his early 20's like Safar. He still had that cunning look in his eyes, a cunning he'd had develop at an early age to survive family wars. But Safar could see there was no malice, no cruelty.

Somehow Iraj had drawn on the mantle of a conqueror, had been the cause of much bloodshed, yet seemed untouched by it.

It made Safar, who was wary and secretive at heart, warier still.

Iraj still had the look of a great dreamer. There was an innocence about himthe innocence of all dreamers. That was what confounded Safar the most. How could Iraj appear so innocent, yet move through scenes of such awful crueltywhich he'd orderedwith his innocence intact?

He glanced at Iraj, once again noting his remarkable resemblance to Alisarrian.

For the first time Safar truly understood the enigma Gubadan had unknowingly posed when he'd asked his favorite rhetorical question: Who was this man, Alisarrian? A monster as his enemies claimed? Or a blessing from the gods?"

Safar wondered if he'd ever learn the answer.

He put confusion aside. His first duty was to Methydia and his friends. After that he'd try his best to keep his promise to Methydia and see what he could do to ease the suffering of the people of Sampitay.

Beyond those two immediate goals was a chasm, deep and wide. Fate seemed to be driving him toward the brink of that chasm.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

After Safar had bathed, changed into fresh clothes and heard a promising first report regarding Methydia's health, he was summoned to Iraj's private quarters.

Other than its size and placement, there was nothing to mark Iraj's tent as the dwelling place of a king. It sat in the center of scores of similar tents, all made of a plain, sturdy material. The hillside encampment was a bustle of uniformed officers and clerks and scribes in drab civilian garb. Safar later learned Iraj conducted all of his business from tents like thesea kind of traveling court, moving from one battlefield to the next. Iraj ruled a vast new kingdomranging from The God's Divide to the most distant wildernesswhile on the road.

The furnishings in Iraj's tent palace were spare and utilitarian. Chests were used as tables, saddles were mounted on posts to make chairs. A plain portable thronewith Iraj's banner hanging over itsat on a raised platform against the far wall. When Safar entered the throne was empty. The two aides assigned to him ushered him past officers and sergeants who were bent over maps, or absorbed in reports.

Heavy curtains blocked off one large section of the tent and as Safar approached he caught the scent of perfume. Surprised as he was by this oddity in a place of such military bearing, he was even more amazed when the curtain parted and two young women dressed like soldiers stepped out. Although they were both remarkably beautiful, they had eyes as fierce as the weapons belted about their slender waists.

Without a word they searched him for weapons. It was an odd sensation being handled so intimately by such beauteous, deadly women.

When they were satisfied they escorted him into the room. In the center, wine cup in hand and lolling on soft pillows, was Irajsurrounded by a dozen other women warriors.

"Safar, he called out, come join me. It's been a long time since we've had a drink together."

He clapped his hands and women rushed about to fetch food and drink while others plumped up pillows to make Safar comfortable.

It was all very bizarre being waited on by these mailed, perfumed handmaids and Iraj chortled at Safar's bewildered expression.

"What do you think of my royal guard? he asked.

Safar shook his head. I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to fight them or make love to them, he joked.

"I've often wondered that myself, Iraj said, smiling. Sometimes we do both just to keep the nights interesting."

The women laughed at the king's jest and their eyes and actions were so adoring there was no mistaking their pleasure was genuine.

"You of all people know my weakness for women, Iraj said.

Safar grinned. Very well."

"Then you will admire my military solution to that weakness, Iraj said. Instead of a baggage train of courtesans and their belongings to slow me down, I've hand-picked a platoon of beautiful women to make up my royal guard. They are all highly-skilled fightersI saw to their training myself, and let me tell you there is not an assassin in existence who could get by them. And they are marvelous bedmates as wellalso due to my personal training."

Safar laughed. It's a hard job being king, he said. But I suppose someone has to do it. He toasted Iraj with the goblet that had been thrust into his hand. Here's to royal sacrifice."

Iraj roared enjoyment at this. He banged his goblet against Safar'swine sloshing over the brimthen drained what remained in the cup.

He pulled one of the women onto his lap, nuzzling her. Tell me, Leiria, he said to the woman, what do you think of my friend, Safar? Isn't he all that I described?"

Leiria gave Safar a sloe-eyed look, guaranteed to light a fire in any manany man but Safar, that is, whose complete attention was fixed on the situation.

"And more, Majesty, Leiria answered, smoldering gaze still fixed on Safar. Except you didn't say he was so handsome. And his eyes! I've never seen a man with blue eyes before. It's like looking into the sky."

Iraj slapped her well-rounded haunch. What? he shouted, but it was a shout of pleasure, not anger. You lust for another?"

Leiria tangled her hand in king's golden beard. Maybe just a little bit, Majesty, she pouted. But only so I can learn more and return to you with greater pleasures."

Iraj kissed her, long and deep, then pulled away and looked at Safar, eyes filled with amusement.

"You see how it is, my brother? he said. It will always be a problem between us. The same women want us. What shall we do about it?"

Safar instantly felt he was walking on dangerous ground. Thankful as I am at the flattery, Majesty, he said, Leiria was only being kind, I'm sure."

"Nonsense, Iraj said. She wants you. Very well, you shall have her."

He untangled himself from Leiria and pushed her into Safar's lap. Leiria went willingly, cooing and snuggling and tracing patterns on his chest with her fingers. Safar shifted his positionher dagger was digging into his side.

"I only ask that you be kind to her, Iraj said. And send her back in good condition. She's known no man but me. He waved at the others. None of them have. I am not in the habit of making my women a gift to other men."

He smiled. In fact, it has only happened one time before. Do you remember when that was, Safar?'

Safar remembered very well indeed. Astarias, he said. How could I possibly forget?"

"And what was the oath we swore then? Iraj asked.

"That all I had was yours, Safar answered, and all that was yours was mine."

"Freely given and with no ill will, correct? Iraj pressed.

"Yes, Majesty, Safar said. Freely given. And with no ill will."

"Good, Iraj said. I'm glad you remember."

For reasons Safar couldn't determine, what had just occurred had been very important to Iraj.

"Another thing, Safar, Iraj said. When we're in private, don't call me majesty or your highness or other such silliness."

"That's certainly a relief, Safar laughed. The first time I said itwhen we were with your officersI kept thinking, this is the same fellow my mother scolded for tromping over her clean floors with muddy boots."

Iraj grinned, remembering. I thought she'd kill me, he said. She made me get down on my hands and knees and clean the mess up. A humbling experience for a future king, that's for certain."

He turned suddenly serious, eyes taking on a far-away cast. But here I am, a king, he said, just as you predicted in Alisarrian's cave."

Safar nodded, remembering.

"And you predicted other things, greater things, Iraj went on.

"Yes, Safar said.

"Tell me, brother, Iraj went on, do you still see those things? Do you still see me as King of Kings, monarch of all Esmir?"

The answer leaped up unbiddena vision of Iraj sitting a golden throne. I do, Safar said softly.

Iraj was quiet for a moment, toying with his cup. Then suddenly he clapped his hands. Leave us! he ordered the women. I want to be alone with my friend."

Leiria scrambled out of Safar's lap and exited the room with her sister warriors. After they'd gone, Iraj remained silent for a time, thinking.

When he finally spoke, there was an edge to his voice"Why didn't you come when I sent for you? I practically begged, which is something I'm not in the habit of doing."

Safar was confused. You sent for me? When?"

"When you were in Walaria, Iraj said. I sent a letter. And a large purse of gold, as well, to pay for your expenses."

"I received neither, Safar said. And if I had, I certainly would have come. He grimaced. Things didn't go well in Walaria."

Iraj searched his face, then relaxed, satisfied Safar had spoken the truth.

"I heard something of your difficulties, he said.

"That's how you came to find me with the circus, Safar said. There are some very dangerous men in Walaria who want my head."

"You needn't concern yourself with them any longer, Iraj said. Walaria paid most dearly for troubling you."

Safar's heart trip-hammered against his chest. What do you mean? he asked.

"Walaria is no more, Iraj answered. I turned it back into a cattle station. He casually refilled his goblet with wine, then poured some into Safar's cup. It wasn't entirely for you, he said. They were fools. They defied me, like these people here in Sampitay. It was necessary to make an example of them.

"Although in Walaria's case, I took some pleasure in dispensing justice. I thought you were dead and I was avenging you."

Safar was horrified that such a thing had been done in his name.

Iraj noted the expression on his face. His face became mournful. I'm normally a soft-hearted fellow who doesn't like to cause pain, he said. It's my father's weakness in me and I have to guard against it. You have to be stern to rule. And much blood must be shed to make a kingdom."

Safar saw moisture well in Iraj's eyes and was surprised at the depth of the emotion.

"But I never knew I'd have to shed so much of it, Iraj said, voice thick.

Then he shook himself and wiped his eyes. He forced a smile on his face.

"You saw that too when we were in the cave, didn't you, Safar? he said. When you foretold my future you seemed sad for me."

"Yes, Safar saidalmost a whisper.

"But it's my fate, so there's nothing to be done about it, Iraj said. This is a terrible world we live in. And I am the only one who make it right. If only people could see into my heart and know my true intent they wouldn't resist me. I will bring peace to this land. I will bring greatness.

"I only wish so many didn't have to suffer first."

Passion burned in Iraj's eyes and for a moment Safar could see his boyhood friend staring out at him through those eyes.

"Will you help me, Safar? Iraj pleaded. I'm not sure I can do this on my own."

Safar hesitated, a thousand thoughts crowding into his mind, competing with one another to be heard. Then, in the middle of his mental chaos, there came a scratching at the door.

Iraj looked up, irritated. In! he commanded.

Two of his guardswomen entered, an old frightened man in healer's garb between them.

"What is it! Iraj barked.

"Forgive me O Gracious Majesty, the healer burbled, this poor worm of a healer trembles in Your Highness presence. He abases himself for daring to"

Iraj waved, cutting him off. Stop driveling, man, he said. What is it?"

The healer bobbed his head, saying, I've come about the woman who was placed in my care."

"Methydia! Safar cried, leaping to his feet. What's wrong with her?"

"I fear she is dying, my lord, he said to Safar, so frightened his legs were about to give way. She calls for you, my lord. You must come quickly before it is too late!"

Iraj saw the torment in Safar's face. Go to her, he said. We'll talk later."

Safar bolted away like an arrow loosed from its bow, the healer tottering behind him as fast as he could.

When he saw her lying on the camp bed, eyes closed, face pale as bleached parchment, the troupe gathered about her weeping silent tears, he thought he was too late. And she looked old, so old he almost didn't recognize her. But as he approached her eyes came open and she was once again his beautiful Methydia.

"Safar, she said, voice faint as a specter's.

He knelt by her side and took her hand, fighting back tears.

"I must look a sight, she said, voice a bit firmer. What an awful way for a woman to greet her young swain."

"You're as beautiful as ever, my love, Safar murmured. Only a little weak from your ordeal."

"You always did lie so sweetly, Safar, Methydia said. But it isn't the time for sugary words. There's no getting around itI'm dying."

Safar clutched her hand tighter. I won't let you! he cried. But as he said it he could feel her slipping away. Stay with me, Methydia! he begged. I'll send for all the healers. I'll make a spell with them, a spell so strong not even the gods themselves could thwart me."

She smiled and he felt her rally, but faint, so faint.

"Let me tell you a secret, my sweet Safar, she said. The gods aren't listening. They aren't listening now. And they haven't been listening for a long time. I know this because I'm so close to death I can see into the Otherworlds.

"And do you know what I see?"

"What? Safar asked, voice quivering.

"The gods are asleep! So deep in their slumber that not even a thousand times a thousand voices lifted at once could raise them."

Safar thought she was raving and he kissed her, murmuring, Nonsense, Methydia. It's only a fever dream you see, not the Otherworlds."

"I wish it were, Methydia said. I wish it were."

Suddenly her eyes grew wider and she struggled to sit up. Safar gently pressed her down, begging her to be still.

"Listen to me, Safar! she cried.

"I'm listening, Methydia, Safar answered.

"Only you can wake the gods, Safar, she said. Only you!"

"Certainly, my love, Safar said. I'll do it as soon as you're well again. We'll wake them together."

"I'm not mad, she said, suddenly stern and with such strength it surprised him. I'm only dying. So don't argue with a dead woman. It isn't polite. Now listen to me! Are you listening?"

"Yes, Methydia, Safar said.

"You mustn't hate Protarus for what was done to me, she said. It was an accident of war, nothing more. Promise me you won't hate him!"

"I promise, Safar said.

"Good. Now I want another promise from you."

"Anything, my love. Anything at all."

"Go with him. Go with Protarus. Help him. It's the only way!"

"Don't ask that of me, Methydia, Safar begged. Please! Too many people are suffering."

"Ease their suffering if you can, she said. But help Protarus get his throne. The throne isn't important. It's only the first step. Protarus isn't important. He's only on the road you must follow. I don't know what's at the end of that road. But you'll know what to do when you get there.

"You'll know, my sweet Safar. You'll know."

"Please, Methydia, Safar said.

"Do you promise me, Safar Timura? Do you promise?"

"I can't, Safar said.

Methydia gripped his hand, squeezing as tight as she could. Putting her all her will and remaining strength in that grip.

"Promise me! she insisted.

"Very well, Safar cried, I promise! Just don't leave me!"

Her hand went limp. Safar looked at her, tears blurring his vision.

There was a smile on her face.

An awful wailing filled the tent as the shock sank in and the other entertainers shouted their grief.

Methydia was dead.

Safar remembered Biner's words long ago when they'd first met:

"Damn everything but the circus!"

And now that circus was no more.

Safar hurried through the encampment, roughly pushing aside anyone who got in his way. Iraj wasn't at his tent headquarters. Safar snarled at a general for directions and his manner was so fierce the scarred veteran of many wars blurted the answer as if he were green stripling.

Safar found Iraj sitting on his traveling throne, which had been moved to a point about halfway down the hillside overlooking Sampitay. On either side of the throne two tall sharpened stakes had been driven into the ground.

Queen Arma's head was mounted on one stake, Prince Crol's on the other.

At the bottom of the hill long lines of the condemned were being herded to the execution blocks. Posts had been erected just beyond and naked men were tied to those posts, screeching in agony while gleeful soldiers tormented them with spears.

Iraj was surrounded by his royal guard and when some of the women saw Safar's manner they drew their swords and stepped in his way.

"Let him through, Iraj commanded.

Reluctantly they parted but they held their swords at ready.

Iraj was grim, face as pale and bloodless as Methydia's had been. He signaled his women to move farther away.

"Give us some privacy, he barked.

The women pulled back, but they weren't happy about it.

"Why did you come here, Safar? he asked. This isn't something that's necessary for you to see."

"I want to ask a favor of you, Iraj, Safar said.

Iraj stirred, irritated. Can't it wait? This is hardly the time or place."

Then he, too, took note of Safar's expression. What is it, my friend? What has happened?"

Safar shook his head, too overcome to answer.

Then sad understanding dawned in Iraj's eyes. Ah, I see. Your woman died, is that it?"

"Yes."

"And you loved her?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry for that. I hope you don't hate me for it."

"No."

"It was an accident of war."

"Methydia said the same thing before she died."

"A wise woman."

"She was that."

Iraj searched Safar's face, then asked, What is it you want from me? What can I do to ease your pain?"

Safar pointed at the awful scene below. Spare them, he said.

Iraj gave him a strange look.

"Let me explain why this would be good for you, Safar said.

Iraj shook his head. You don't need to explain your reasons to me. You asked a boon. You shall have it. Freely given and without hesitation.

"After all, that is our agreement. Our blood oath pledge to each other."

Iraj shouted for his aides and they came running up to him. Release these people, he commanded. Return them to their homes."

"But, Majesty, one of the aides protested. What of their defiance? We must make an example of people like this."

Iraj glowered at the man, who visibly shrank under the glare. If you ever dare question me again, sir, the king said, it'll be your head on one of those blocks. Do as I commanded! At once!"

The aides rushed off to his bidding. A few moments later horns blared, orders were shouted, and the chains were stricken from the limbs of the people of Sampitay. They fell to their knees, weeping and shouting praises to the heavens, thanking the gods and Protarus for sparing them.

Safar watched, thinking it was Methydia they should be thanking, not Protarus.

"To be frank, my friend, Iraj said, I am relieved to grant you this favor. Viewing mass executions, much less ordering them, is one of my least favorite duties."

"Don't order them, then, Safar said.

Iraj's brow rose in surprise. His cheeks flushed. It was clear he was not used to be spoken to this way. Then he made a rueful smile.

"You speak honestly, he said. No one in my court dares do that. Which is what I lack most of all. A friend who dares to tell me what he truly believes."

"Not an hour ago, Safar said, you asked me to join you. Do you still want my service?"

"Indeed I do, Iraj answered. But I don't want your answer now. I granted you a favor. It wouldn't be right to ask one in return. It would be a stain on our friendship."

"You'll have my answer just the same, Safar said. And it won't be a favor I'm granting you. I will join you, freely and gladly. All I ask is that you listen to my advice, which I will give you as honestly as I can."

"Done! Iraj said, face lighting up.

He thrust out his hand. Take it, my brother, he said. And I will lift you as high as it is in my powers to do."

Safar clasped his hand.

Iraj said, Safar Timura, son of a potter, wizard of the High Caravans, I, King Iraj Protarus, proclaim you Grand Wazier. From this moment on you are the highest of the high in my realm.

"And you may command all but myself."

Safar felt the world turn about. It was as if a great circus master had spun the Great Wheel of the Fates. Safar was strapped to it, his head the arrow point, spinning, spinning, spinning. And he heard the circus master's cry, Around and around he goes… and where he stops… the gods only know!"

Safar gripped Iraj's hand tighter, partly to steady himself, but mostly to keep himself from snatching his own hand away. He wanted nothing of this. His greatest desire was to climb aboard the Cloudship with Biner and Arlain and the others and flee this place, this fate.

But the Cloudship was no more.

And he had made a promise to Methydia.

Safar steeled his nerve and said as firmly as he could: I accept."

That night Iraj called his court into session. There was a small ceremony to proclaim Safar Grand Wazier.

The faces of the king's officers and courtiers were all a blur to Safar. He could pick out only a few. Some were friendly. Some were not. Mostly, there were only looks of curiosity and awe.

Who was this man who had been lifted so high, so quickly?

Did his presence bode ill, or fair?

Late in the night Safar dreamed that Methydia came to him.

In his dream he felt soft hands caressing him. He opened his eyes and saw Methydia's face and Methydia's slender body poised over him. He cried out her name and crushed to her to him. They made love, a floaty love like they were aboard the Cloudship once again. Then the Cloudship burst into flames, plunging for the earth and they clasped one another, riding the fire in an endless fall.

When he awoke in the morning Safar found Leiria snuggled in the crook of his arm, smiling in her sleep.

Feeling like a traitor, he gently tried to extract his arm. But Leiria came awake, purring and sloe-eyed and clutching him closer.

He untangled her politely, but firmly. I have duties to attend to, he said.

At first Leiria pouted, then she giggled and got up, saying, I mustn't be selfish and take all your strength, my lord."

Safar managed a faint smile for an answer.

She starting pulling on clothes. You called out another woman's name in the night, she said. Her tones were light, but Safar could sense hurt in them. Was she the one who died?"

"Yes, Safar answered softly.

Leiria shrugged. I don't mind, she said. It's good that your heart is faithful. She had her head down, concentrating hard on buckling on her weapons. The king has ordered me to comfort you and guard you with my life."

She raised her head and Safar saw tears in her eyes. The king orders, she said, but I do it gladly. I will guard you and I will be this other woman for you for as long as you like.

"And perhaps someday it will be my name you speak instead of… hers."

Safar didn't know what to say. From the look on her face a word either way might cause a flood of tears. She would despise him for humiliating her.

So all he said was, You honor me, Leiria."

Weak as that reply was, she seemed to find satisfaction in it. She nodded, finished her dressing, then kissed hima quick peck on the cheekand left.

Safar looked after her wondering how much was artifice and how much was truly meant.

And how much would she tell Iraj?

It wasn't long before Safar had a chance to test those questions. He'd barely had time to snatch a quick meal and don his clothes before Iraj summoned him.

Leiria was his guide and guard as he made his hasty way into the king's presence. She gave no hint of the night they'd had together. Her bearing was professional and military, her manner courteous and respectful.

When they came to the king's rooms he didn't have to undergo the usual search for weapons and was instantly swept inside. Iraj was seated in a simple camp chair, maps and charts spread out on a small table in front of him.

When he saw Safar he said, It seems my little gift to you has caused all sorts of trouble, my friend."

Safar forced himself not to look at Leiria. What ever do you mean, Iraj? he asked.

Iraj tapped one of the maps. I'm planning our next campaign, he said, to Safar's immense relief. Winter is coming on and there isn't much time."

"What's the problem? Safar asked. And how was I the cause of it?"

"Sampitay is the problem, Iraj answered. Now that I've given it back to its people, as you requested, I'll have those same people at my back when we march again."

"What makes you think they'll be a danger to you? Safar asked.

"What makes you think they won't? was Iraj's reply, eyes narrowing.

"Aren't you going to garrison the city, Safar asked and put one of your own men in charge?"

"Garrisons are trebly expensive, Iraj said. They cost money, soldiers, and good officers to run them."

"Yesterday, Safar said, I offered reasons for my request. You kindly chose not to hear. I'd like to offer them again."

Iraj nodded. Go ahead, he said.

"Sampitay is one of the richest cities in Esmir, Safar pointed out. The source of its wealth, as you know, is silk. But it takes highly skilled people to produce that silkskills few others in world possess outside Sampitay.

"So the people are worth more to you alive and free than dead or enslaved. Think of all the gold they'll pay in taxes. Gold you can use to wage your campaign.

"As for the soldiers necessary to garrison the city, why not enlist an equal number of Sampitay soldiers to take their place? You can them train in your ways easily enough.

"Finally, you must have many young officers who ache for more responsibility and promotion. They can replace the senior officers you leave behind to command the garrison to keep the peace and make certain your taxes are collected."

Iraj considered, then said, I admit I'm in sore need of money. They don't tell you in the histories of warfare how much it costs to wage those wars.

"Thus far I've used plunder and the paltry taxes I'm able to collect from the cities now under my rule. Unfortunately, plunder tends to go more into the pockets of my soldiers than mine. They expect it and it is their right.

"As for the taxes, the rulers who have allied themselves to me are always whining they are hard pressed to pay what I ask. I don't have time to go back and give them a real reason for their moaning and so they've been cheating me without mercy."

"Then garrison them all in the manner I suggested for Sampitay, Safar said.

"What? And use their soldiers as well to replace my own?"

"What's wrong with that? Safar asked.

"Up until now, Iraj said, I've only used men from my native plains."

"That was certainly a wise policy when you started out, Safar said. But if you are to be King of Kings, the true ruler of all Esmir, you must look for loyalty in the hearts of all your subjects, not just in the men of the plains.

"And that, my friend, is the best reason of all to end this policy of slaughter. Besides, you told me yourself you disliked all that bloodshed. Perhaps this reluctance really wasn't due to some weakness you inherited from your father. Perhaps it was in the back of your mind that a new way had to be found to rule the kind of kingdom that was once Alisarrian's.

"And all I've done was to put words to ideas that were there all along."

Iraj thought for a time, then said, I'll do as you suggest, he said. Starting with Sampitay."

He motioned to the maps. It'll make this job much easier, that's for certain. Before winter sets in I'll have the whole south under my rule. And in the spring he traced a line across the God's Divide"we'll take on the north, crossing at Kyrania just as Alisarrian did."

He sagged back in his chair, weary. I'll have to fight my way all the way to the sea, he said. I wonder how many years it will take? And if I'll live long enough to see it."

"You will, Safar said.

Iraj smiled, remembering. That's right. We saw each other in that vision, didn't we? The demons under our boots as we marched on the gates of Zanzair."

"I remember, Safar said.

Iraj was silent for a moment, then he asked, Do you think of the demons often? When we faced them together in the pass?"

"It's my least favorite nightmare, Safar said.

"Do you think Coralean was right? And they were just a group of bandits who strayed into the humanlands?"

"I've seen no evidence pointing either way, Safar said. I combed the libraries in Walaria to find some historical precedence. He shook his head. There wasn't any. However, many strange things have happened since that time. Droughts and plagues and wars."

Iraj made a rueful grin. Well, we know where the wars came from, he said. He tapped his chest to indicate himself. As for the other things, they could be naturally caused."

"I don't think so, Safar said. He told him of his investigations into Hadin. And he told him of the sorcerous worm he encountered in Kyshaat.

When he was done, Iraj said, I've thought of that night on the mountain many times. And of your vision afterwards. I'm no seer like yourself, my friend. But I'll tell you what I think it was all about.

"Perhaps something did happen in far off Hadin. Personally, I think it was a sign from the heavens. A sign that fits perfectly into your other visions about me and Alisarrian.

"I truly believe the world is at a crossroads. In one direction lies disaster, although what that disaster entails I cannot say. In the other, hope and a bright future."

Again he tapped his chest. And I am that hope and future. Once I succeed, all will be set right again."

"I pray you're right, Safar said. I plan to do all in my powers to see you have the chance to prove it."

Iraj laughed. Well said, my brother. Together we will conquer all. Nothing can stand in our way."

Safar's answer was a smile. But he was thinking, there's still the demons, Iraj. There's still the demons.

The following day Safar made his farewells to the circus. He plumped a bag of gold into Biner's hand. It was so heavy it caught the muscular dwarf by surprise and he nearly dropped it.

"What's this? Biner asked.

"The price of a century's worth of tickets, Safar said, smiling. I'm hoping you'll always save a place for me."

"We thirtainly will, Arlain said, dabbing at a tear with a kerchief.

"Won't be much of a circus, Biner said, without Methydia and the Cloudship."

"I wish I could bring them back, Safar said. The gold is all I can do."

"We'll make the best damn circus we can, Biner said. We'll make you proud of us."

"I already am, Safar said. And for the rest of my life I'll remember the months I was with you."

"You're a rich man, now, Biner said. A powerful man. But if you should ever need us… Emotion overcame him and he turned to honk his nose into a rag. When he'd recovered, he said, Hells, you know what I mean!"

"Sure I do, Safar said, wiping at his own tears.

Then he embraced them all one by one.

When he was done he rushed off before he weakened and slipped away with them in the night.

The next time Leiria came to his bed he nearly refused her. In the end it seemed easier to accept her embrace than send her away. She was an ardent lover, a skilled lover. He never again called out Methydia's name, although it was Methydia he thought of. He didn't know what to make of Leiria. Was she truly smitten? Or was she Iraj's spy? She never gave a sign either way. At night she was fire in his arms, by day the cool professional, measuring any man who approached him for signs of ill intent.

Because of his doubts he waited several nights before he delved into a most important task. Then he gave her a difficult errand that would take much time to accomplish.

When she was gone he drew out the stone turtle and summoned Gundara.

The little Favorite was still extremely weak and couldn't take full form. Safar could see the tent walls through his wispy figure.

"I hope you don't have anything hard you want to do, master, Gundara whined. I'm not feeling very well, you know."

"I have a treat for you, Safar said, offering Gundara a sweet he'd saved from the dinner table.

Listlessly, Gundara took it from his hand. He licked at the sugar, then sighed and let the sweet fall to the ground.

"Doesn't taste as good as it used to, he complained.

"I've never had a chance to thank you for the warning that night, Safar said.

Gundara made another deep sigh. I almost couldn't get out of the stone, he said. Gundaree pushed and pushed as hard as he could. It nearly killed us both."

"I'm sorry for that, Safar said. Still, you saved my life."

Gundara shrugged. I just hope I don't have to do it again real soon."

"So do I, Safar said. But what about now? Am I in the presence of enemies?"

"Assuredly, master, Gundara said. There are enemies all around you. So many I can't single anyone out in particular. Right now they seem afraid to do more than hate you. My advice, master, is to be as careful as you can."

"What about Iraj? Safar asked. What about the king? Is he my enemy?"

"No, the Favorite answered. But he's a danger to you. All kings are. Beware of kings, master, is the best advice I can give you."

"And what of the woman Leiria? Safar asked. Does she mean well, or ill?"

"I'm too weak and her thoughts too confusing to say, master, Gundara answered. When she's with you, she adores you. But when she's near the king, she adores him. All I can tell you is don't trust her… and keep her close."

Safar hid his disappointment. He'd hoped to get more from the little Favorite.

"Is there anything I can do for you? he asked. Anything at all to speed your recovery?"

"Rest, master, Gundara said. That's all we need and that's all that can be done. We'll be better by and by."

Safar thought, by and by could mean a hundred years to a Favorite. He hoped that wasn't the case.

He started to make a motion to send Gundara back into the stone.

"Wait, master, Gundara said. I almost forgot something."

The Favorite made a gesture and a small object appeared in his hand. He gestured again and the object plopped into Safar's palm, growing before his eyes.

It was a thin, battered old book bound in leather.

"Nerisa and I stole this from Umurhan's library, Gundara said. She gave it to me to hold for you."

Safar looked closer. He caught his breath. On the cover, in worn gold leaf, was a familiar symbol.

"It's Lord Asper's book, Gundara said. The one you were looking for. Then he vanished into the stone.

Fingers trembling, Safar opened the book. It took him a few moments to translate the scratchings. Then the words jumped out as if they were alive:

"Long, long have I bewailed this world. Long, long have I mourned our fates. Swords unsheathed, banners unfurled, Charge the ramparts fired with hate. 'Slay the humans! we all cried. 'Drive the devils from our lands!' I shouted the loudest, but I shouted a lie. I feared to tell them all were damned! Demon and human from a single womb, Bound for Hadin where once I spied A common death and a common tomb…

Safar grunted in frustration. Insects had destroyed the rest of the page.

He flipped the leaves. A few were damaged, most were not, but the rest of the book seemed to consist of magical formulas and scribbled notes, with other bits of poetry here and there. It would take much time to decipher the demon wizard's formulas and notes. But at least he'd finally found somethingor someoneto point the way.

He thought of Nerisa. Actually, she'd never been far from his mind. Not a day passed when her face, with its huge sad eyes and crooked little grin, didn't rise up to haunt him. He smiled, thinking this bookAsper's bookwas her final gift to him.

Outside his room he heard Leiria approach. He put the book away.

Poor Leiria, he thought. Two dead women for rivals, instead of one.

The army marched a week later, Iraj at its head and Safar at his side. Sampitay's citizens turned out for the march, lining the main road and shouting praises and well wishes to the Good King Protarus.

Not long after another city fell, adding to the jewels in his crown. Iraj dealt with this city like Sampitay, following Safar's advice on the treatment of its citizens and the manner of government. A month went by, a month filled with conquests. Some were bloody, some were not.

Then winter came and Iraj's army took up camp. There was plenty of fuel for fire and plenty of food and drink. Messengers came and went, caravans crept over the snow, carrying gold from the tax gatherers to fill Iraj's treasure house.

But the king was moody, pacing the grounds and staring out across the distance at the Gods Divide, cursing all the cold days that remained until spring.

And he swore to his friend and Grand Wazier, Lord Safar Timura, that he would march for the mountains when the first green buds burst from the ground.