Wizard of the winds

CHAPTER TWENTY

Safar crouched in the flowered peaks above Kyrania. It was early summer, the rains had been sweet, the heavens kind, and his valley was a misty shimmer beneath the pale morning sun. The fields were emerald green, the lake was a great blue diamond fed by springs flowing down the mountains in a silvery pilgrimage to the Goddess Felakia.

"So this is your home, Leiria said in awe. I've never seen anything so beautiful. It's like a dream."

Safar motioned for silence. His magical self had arrowed past Leiria's dream and found a nightmare. In his innermost pocket the stone idol blistered warning.

He signaled to the menfifty of Iraj's finest mounted warriors. They dismounted, positioned feed bags to silence their horses and quickly shifted their gear to ready themselves for battle.

Leiria raised an eyebrow. What's wrong?"

"Watch, Safar said.

He plucked a glass pellet from his pouch and hurled it to the ground. It shattered and pale green smoke whooshed up, swirling to the height of a knee. First a landscape, then figures toiling in that landscape, took form in the smoke. There were at least two score of themminiature humans moving through the fields of Kyrania. They seemed agonized, smoke forms twisting and leaping in pain. Larger columns of smoke funneled up, hardening into the givers of that pain. They were creatures of snouted fangs and taloned claws.

Leiria caught her breath. Demons!"

Safar didn't answer. He gestured and the smoke image vanished. He slumped onto the boulder, so mournful it was all Leiria could do not to console himbranding herself as a weakling in the eyes of her fellow soldiers.

"This changes everything, she said, colder than she'd intended. We'd best return immediately and tell the king the demons have seized Kyrania."

Safar nodded absently. His thoughts were barely of this world. He was imagining the terrors his family and friends were suffering.

Safar had intended to warn his people of the coming peril, then set up shields to confuse the demons if and when they attacked through the pass. Iraj was even now gathering a force of shock troops to be rushed in to fill the gap until his main army had time to arrive. Safar had convinced Iraj even greater haste must be madethat he should go out in advance of the troops and prepare the way. Now it seemed his mission to Kyrania, which had required much cajolement to win Iraj's approval, was a failure before it started.

"You're right, he replied, mechanical as a clockwork toy. We must inform the king."

Leiria winced at his pain. But she said nothing. She walked back to the men to order a withdrawal. It would be done quickly, but silently. Weapons and gear were strapped down so they wouldn't rattle. Rags stuffed with brush were tied onto the horses hooves so all noise would be pillowed.

When all was ready Leiria returned to say it was time to go. She touched him and he suddenly came back to life.

"I must see for myself, he said.

"You can't, Leiria protested. We might be discovered."

Safar insisted. He made it clear the only way he'd leave now was if he were bound and gagged and tied to the back of a horse.

Everyone was terrified of committing such an indignity to Lord Timura, the Grand Wazier. But they were equally as terrified of his plan.

"The king will have our heads if you're captured, Leiria protested.

"No he won't, Safar said. Here. I'll make sure of it."

He scrawled a hasty message to Iraj. No one was to be held accountable for his actions. He added a brief report on what he'd seen so far and what should be done if he didn't return. The message was placed in the care of Rapton, the young lieutenant who commanded the warriors. Strict orders were given. If Safar and Leiriawho insisted on accompanying himdid not return by dusk Rapton and the troops were to make all speed to Sampitaywhere Iraj and his court were currently ensconcedand deliver the news.

When he was done Safar called for silence. He prepared Leiria and himself, coating their clothes and skin with a smoky herb that would confound sensitive demon noses. He made a spell to shield their human auras from demon wizards. Last of all he hauled out the stone turtle and alerted Gundara to keep watch for danger.

The little Favorite and his twin, Gundaree, were back to normal again. Drawing inspiration from Lord Asper's book, Safar had devised a healing program to hasten their recoveryspecial powders mixed with warm honey and wine. For two weeks the stone idol had rested in that potion, which Safar refreshed daily. At first nothing had changed. If anything the faint buzz of life had grown fainter.

Then one morning Safar awakened to a familiar"Shut up, shut up, shuuut upp! And he knew things were well again in the small world of the Favorites.

Safar turned to Leiria. I know it's your habit to lead the way, he said.

"It's more than habit, my lord, she said. It's my duty. I am your bodyguard. I must keep you safe."

"Yes, yes, he said, impatiently. And you perform your duty well. But this time we have to change the order of things. I was raised here. I was once a boy roaming these hills. I know all the secret places boys know. I know all the secret paths boys favor.

"I want you to follow me. Keep close as you can. Walk in my tracks if possible. Do all I do. And nothing that I don't. Do you understand?"

Leiria swore she did and a few moments later they were hurrying down an old deer trail, so faint it might have been made by a population of mice.

They hadn't gone a hundred yards before Safar suddenly veered to the right and was gone.

Leiria nearly panicked, looking madly about for some sign of Safar. Then she saw where the leaves wavered and plunged after him. She heard him hiss before she saw him, jerking back just in time to avoid stepping on his heels. They traveled in silent tandem for a time, jumping onto to trails and jumping off again, veering left and then right and then straight ahead. But from the tension in her calves Leiria could tell the general direction was downward.

Downto the broad lake and rich fields of Kyrania.

Khadji Timura slipped his trowel into the claybed. He felt the blade grate through sand and gravel and he pushed it in a little deeper. He lifted the load up, hiding his distaste at the poor quality of the clay and all the trash it contained, and dumped it into the waiting bucket.

"Hurry up, old man, the demon said. I'm weary."

"Forgive me, master, Khadji said. I am old, as you have repeatedly reminded me this entire day, and my joints give me pain. If I had help, which you have wisely informed me is not possible, I could work more quickly."

The demon, whose name was Trin, scowled at Safar's father, saying, You think because you are human and demons can't read human expressions that I don't realize you're mocking me."

He swatted Khadji with his club. Khadji grunted and nearly fell. He steadied himself with a hand and blinked away tears that were more from humiliation than pain. Trin was experienced at such things. He knew how to rap a human skull with just enough force to gain their attention, but not so hard they'd be incapacitated.

"You are probably cursing me and your fate right now, Trin said. This is good. It teaches you how you stand with me. I have better things to do than spend my days here in the damp and cold watching you dig up clay. If I had my way I'd empty your brains from your skull and join my mates in some spirited drinking."

"You're right, exalted one, Khadji said. He'd recovered and was rising, full bucket in hand. And I thank you for the reminder of what a fortunate person I am.

"Why, what would become of me and family if your superiors weren't so wise? What clever fiends they are. I've often remarked on it to Myrna, my wife.

"Good Timura pottery equals much gold on the marketplace. Gold your king requires to fight his wars."

Trin snorted. A pot's a pot, as far as I'm concerned, he said. You put something in it. And you empty it out. I used to pinch them out by the dozen when I was young. Some broke when they were fired. Some didn't. Who cares? The clay costs nothing. And the fire only wants a little fuel."

"Who am I to quarrel with such an expert on pottery? Khadji said.

"No one, Trin agreed. I was a potter before I was a soldier. I know good work when I see it."

He looked at the bucket, then dug a tentative claw into its contents. A little gritty, isn't it? he said.

"All the beds are nearly worked out, master, the potter lied. The best clay was on the other side of Lake Felakia, snuggled in grit-free beds he had no intention of showing the demons. This is the best we can do under the circumstances."

Khadji saw two figures steal out of the brush behind the demon. As if sensing their presence, the demon started to turn in that direction.

The potter lifted up the bucket to capture his attention.

"It only needs a little cleaning, exalted one, he said. And if there are imperfections, why we'll cover them up with the glaze. Like you said, master, a pot's a pot. But when I put my name on itTimurathere are plenty of fools at the marketplace who think the name is more important than actual quality."

"My father, Trin said, wiping a talon on Khadji's smock, who was a potter of great renown, used to tell me the same thing."

"He sounds as wise a fiend as his son, Khadji said.

The demon glared at him. Are you mocking me again, human? He raised his club. Are you?"

There was a thunk. The demon's yellow eyes suddenly widened and club fell from his hands. An arrow point protruded through his throat.

Trin pitched forward, quite dead.

Khadji upended the bucket on the corpse and spit.

"A pot's just a pot, is it? he growled. Then he opened his arms to embrace Safar. Welcome home, son, he said.

To Safar's immense embarrassment, Khadji started to weep.

"It's all right, father, he murmured, patting him uncomfortably. It's all right."

"We'd heard about all the troubles in Esmir, his father said, sipping from the mug of trail wine. Droughts and plagues and wars. But it's always been so in the outside world. And although we worried, especially for you, Safar, we never thought those troubles would arrive to take up residence before our very hearths."

Leiria and the soldiers were gathered about Safar and his father, listening closely to the old potter's tale. Less than an hour had passed since the demon had been killed, his body hidden in the brush. The group was gathered in a safe place high above Kyrania. Guards were posted to give warning if anyone came.

"Not long ago Lord Coralean came this way, Khadji said, and we heard the news of the demon invasion and capture of Caspan. He looked at Safar, eyes red-streaked, skin sagging from his long ordeal. We all remembered the demons you and Iraj encountered up in the passes of The Bride And Six Maids."

Khadji sighed. Lord Coralean was wrong, wasn't he, when he said they were only rogues who'd strayed into the humanlands?"

It was a question that didn't need answering. Safar refilled his father's cup. The old man took another sip of the restorative.

"Anyway, that's when we started worrying, he said. It seemed only logical the demons would have to come through Kyrania to attack the other side. We've always been blessed by peace in these mountains. But now it seemed that peace would be no more.

"The Elders met. There was much talk of this and that, but it was mostly nonsense, for who among us had ever faced such a situation before? Coralean had promised us he would plead with King Protarus for help, but we didn't know if the help would come at all, much less in time. So we decided to mount our own defenses."

Khadji made a bitter laugh. The lads drilled and trained and we rebuilt the walls of the old fort. But it was clear that although Kyranians can fight well enough, none of us have the killing instincts of a soldier. He glanced at Leiria and the others. I hope you don't take offense, he said. I was only speaking of professional training, not doubting the human kindness I'm sure is natural to you all."

"No offense given, or taken, Father Timura, Leiria said. We know what you meant."

Khadji looked up a Safar, anguished. In the end, he said, there was no time for resistance. They took us in our beds. And then they rounded us up and put us all in that fort we'd labored so hard to rebuild. They killed some of us to set an example. They were humiliating deaths.

"They made us watch."

Khadji brushed away a tear. I learned what it was to be a weak and selfish mortal, he said. Much as I mourned the deaths of my friends, I'm ashamed to say I knew joy because I still lived. And your mother and your sisters."

He drained the cup, covering the mouth when Safar offered more.

"And Gubadan? Safar asked.

"Gone, his father answered. He was among the first. The demons have witch sniffers, you know. Gubadan didn't have much magic. But it was enough for them to find him out."

He touched Safar's hand, tentatively, as if amazed his son wasn't a ghost. It's a good thing you weren't here, son, he said. We've all heard what a great wizard you've become. They would have found you out immediately."

"I'm surprised they let any of you live, Father Timura, Leiria said. We have the gods to thank for that."

"Not the gods, Khadji said, but a human traitor. And it isn't thanks we owe him, but all the curses we can manage."

Safar's eyes narrowed. There was a human leading them?"

"Not leading, actually, his father answered. Although they listen to his counsel with much respect. Apparently this human has powerful friends among the demons. Some even say he has the ear of Crown Prince Luka."

"Who is this man? Safar demanded. Do I know of him? Would I recognize his name."

"I believe so, Khadji answered. He certainly knows you."

When he said the name Safar jumped as if he'd been stung.

Kalasariz strolled out of the Temple of Felakia into the warm sunlight. It was late afternoon and the atmosphere in the temple, which he'd turned into his quarters, had suddenly felt too close. So he'd left his scribe to complete the report to Prince Luka and ambled outside to refresh himself.

It was a day of sharp colors and deep shadows. The sun was spun gold, the clouds pure silver, the lake and sky startling blue. He filled his lungs with air, which was heavy with the scent of blossoms. He breathed out, savoring the air's fruity aftertaste. A few birds sang a melody from the small grove down near the lake. Their song made Kalasariz smile.

Another delightful day in Kyrania, he thought. So different from the bustling, smoky squalor of Walaria. Kalasariz, who had spent his entire career eliminating surprise, was amazed at how his life had turned out. Turned upside down, actually, he thought. The only thing unsurprising was that he'd managed to land on his feet when the great emptying had begun. Kalasariz was an agile master of balance. Even his enemies would say that. He grinnedEspecially his enemies!

Another bird joined the songfest at the grove. The chorus was quite compelling.

Kalasariz let his feet carry him toward the lake so he could enjoy the concert close up.

He supposed things had gotten rather… stressful… when King Protarus had shown up at the gates of Walaria. Not surprising, though. Kalasariz refused to accept that description of his feelings those many long months ago when panic raged all about him. He'd kept calm. Kept his footing. Formed his plan. And taken action.

He'd been rather… alarmed? No, no. Too strong a word. Disappointed, perhaps. Yes, he'd been disappointed when his carefully laid plan to join Protarus had failed. His secret messages and doctored files claiming friendship with Safar Timura had not found a receptive audience in King Protarus. At first he'd been… irritated. Not angry, but irritated. Kalasariz admired suspicion. It was a tool no worthy monarch should be without. But in his view Protarus had taken suspicion beyond reason.

So what if there were a few lies in Kalasariz messages? He'd honestly intended to fulfill his side of the bargain. Hadn't he seen to it that a certain gate was left unguarded at the appropriate time? Hadn't he delivered Didima and Umurhan just as he'd agreed? And hadn't he promised long and faithful service to his new king?

Kalasariz was sorely wounded Protarus hadn't seen what a valuable ally he would have been. Good spies are difficult to find. And Kalasariz, who wasted no time on things like false modesty, knew he was the best of all.

The best proof of that were the spies he had in Protarus court. They'd warned him just in time the king meant to betray him and he'd barely escaped with his life.

Kalasariz found it amusing the king's betrayal had ended up being a blessing. Why, if he had joined the king he wouldn't be here in Kyrania so well placed on the winning side. So what if they were demons? They had what Kalasariz considered an enlightened attitude toward human abilities. Luka had immediately seen Kalasariz potential. As had Lord Fari. Of course, the two would probably appreciate him less, but admire him more, if they knew he'd made separate arrangements with them both.

He stopped at the edge of the grove. The birds broke off their concert and flew deeper into the shadows. There they perched on an old nut tree, branches bursting with bounty, and took up their song again. The music was sweet, very sweet. I must see what sort of birds these are, Kalasariz thought. Then a sudden vision came to him of one of the birds leaping down on his finger. In the vision he carried the creature away and put it in a cage where it serenaded him all the night long.

Teased by the vision, he followed the birds into the woods.

Kalasariz hadn't deluded himself about his safety from Protarus anywhere on the Walarian side of the Gods Divide. Even if he could have found a suitable place, he had no intention of spending his days as a man without influence, without power, ducking and dodging through alleyways. So he'd decided to cross the mountains and see what kind of life he could make in Caspan. He had well-placed spies in that city, which was an even better start than the fat pouch of gems he'd carried away with him when he'd escaped.

Those were exciting days, he thought with the fondness that distance and success give to anxious times. Disguised as a merchant, he'd hired a place in a caravan traveling to Caspan. He'd crossed the mountains at Kyrania with that caravan, noting with much interest the richness of the valley. He'd even purchased a fine set of wine cups from Khadji Timura, enjoying much private amusement as the old man and his wife smiled and chatted while they wrapped the cups in felt and packed them carefully away in a carved box for his journey. He'd nearly laughed aloud when the dear old couple had boasted of their son, Safar Timura, who was a great scholar and boyhood friend of Iraj Protarus.

He remembered the conversation as if it were yesterday.

"Perhaps you've heard of him? Khadji asked.

"Safar Timura? Kalasariz replied. No, I'm sorry I haven't had that honor."

"No, Iraj Protarus, I mean, Khadji said.

"Certainly I have, Kalasariz said. Who hasn't heard of the great King Protarus and his famous victories?"

Then Myrna shyly asked, Some say he's cruel. Is this true?"

"Not at all, good mother, Kalasariz said. Why, he's the kindest of kings. Oh, there have been deaths, of course. But when isn't there in a war? No, he's a grand king, this Protarus. And good for business as well."

Myrna acted much relieved. I'm pleased to hear that, she said. He lived here for a time, you know. He was a good lad. A little wild and strong-willed, of course. But a good lad. His mother would have been proud, may the gods bless her dear departed soul."

Kalasariz chuckled at the memory. He looked up and saw the birds had moved, but only to a lower branch. He wondered what kind of nut tree it was. Cinnamon, perhaps?

He'd barely settled in Caspanreacquainting his spies with the solidness of good Kalasariz goldwhen the demons struck.

Once again he found himself in a city under siege, hysteria raging all about him. But he'd kept his head low, ordered his spies to do the same, and once the demons had taken the city he'd poked it up again. The demons had engaged in the usual slaughter. But when they thought the lesson had been taughtand taught wellthey set up an administration to run the city. Some of those administrators were from the previous government. They were all low level bureaucratsthe kind who do most of the real work and take little notice of who or what might be the current resident of the throne. Among them were Kalasariz spies.

Once he knew the lay of the land, Kalasariz had approached Luka and Fariseparately, of course. He had many things to offer. The most valuable of all was Kyrania. The key that would unlock the gate to Protarus kingdom.

He paused under the tree, the birds just above him, but silent now.

So here I am, he thought, enjoying my reward. The first of many and greater rewards to come.

The birds fluttered, catching his attention. He noticed one bird in particular. It was bright green, while the others were drab brown, and seemed to have a large red spot on its breast. It was a plump little fellow. Deliciously so.

Kalasariz recalled that song birds were supposed to be the best meat of all. The sweeter the song, it was said, the sweeter the flesh.

He looked closer at the tree. He was certain now it was a cinnamon. Ah, he thought, a song bird fed on cinnamon. What a meal I could make!

Kalasariz held out his finger. Fly down, fly down my pretty little bird, he called. Light upon me. I have nice things for you."

He was mildly surprised when the bird hopped from the branch and perched on his outstretched finger. He'd only been amusing himselfthinking of the vision. But now it seemed that vision was about to turn into dinner.

"Sing to me little bird, he cooed. Sing to Kalasariz. Sing as sweetly as you can, my pretty. And then I'll wring your little neck and have you for supper."

To his delight the bird opened its beak as if to sing.

"Shut up, shut up, shuutt uuuup! it said.

Kalasariz jaw dropped. What? What did you say?"

"I said shut up, Gundaree, the bird went on. I saw him first. I don't care if he smells like a demon. He's a people. Look for yourself, you stupid thing!"

I'm dreaming, Kalasariz thought. I fell asleep in the temple and I dreamed I took a walk. And now I'm dreaming this bird is talking to me. He lifted his hand, examining the red spot on the bird's breast. How odd, he thought. It's in the shape of a turtle.

Suddenly the bird sank sharp claws into his finger.

Kalasariz shrieked and tried to fling the creature off.

"Get away, get away! he cried.

But the bird only sank its claws deeper, grating against the bone.

Screaming, Kalasariz flung himself about, trying to shake the bird from his wounded hand.

"Stop that you stupid human! the bird shouted at Kalasariz. You're hurting me."

Then the bird transformed into a snarling little fiend with long sharp teeth. It leaped onto Kalasariz face, clutching his cheeks with its talons. Then it bit him on the nose.

Kalasariz froze. He felt pain, felt the creature clinging to his face, felt blood flow into his mouth, but he couldn't move. Couldn't even twitch, much less make a sound.

He heard footsteps and saw a figure step from the tree.

And Kalasariz, a man who refused to recognize even mild surprise, much less stark terror, knew both.

"You'd better let go of him, Safar said. You're getting blood all over your clothes. And you know how you hate that."

Gundara released Kalasariz, then hopped to the ground. The little Favorite examined his gore-stained costume.

"Now, look what you've done, he accused Kalasariz. If you'd have stayed still like you were supposed to there'd have only been a little pinch. And almost no blood."

Kalasariz, stricken dumb as well as spellbound, could only manage a strangled gag. He saw Safar haul out a stone idol, shaped like a turtle.

"Why don't you go clean yourself up? Safar said to Gundara. You can have your treats later."

"What a good master, Gundara said. What a kind master."

He hopped up on the stone, shrinking in size so he'd fit. He hesitated, clearly torn. You won't forget, will you? he said to Safar. The sweets I mean."

"I won't forget, Safar reassured him.

"Promise?"

Safar sighed. I promise, he said, as patiently as he could.

Gundara squealed delight. Then"Look out, Gundaree! Here I come!"

And he vanished into the stone.

Safar put the idol away and approached Kalasariz. He looked him up and down. The spymaster felt another shock when he saw how blue Safar's eyes wereblue as that sky, blue as that cold lake he'd admired only minutes before.

"I suppose you're wondering why you are still alive? Safar said, so mild it was frightening.

Kalasariz hadn't reached that point yet, but as soon as Safar mentioned it his mind made the leap. His reaction was so violent that a faint tremble of fear made its way through the numbness.

"Good, Safar said. I can see it in your eyes. Now that you traveled that far you're a bright enough fellow to know the answer. Am I right?"

Kalasariz made a gagging sound.

Safar looked disgusted. He snapped his fingers and Kalasariz suddenly had the ability to speak. Although he was still as immobile as a statue.

"Thank the gods you've come, Safar! Kalasariz blurted. You're just in time to"

Safar snapped his fingers again, returning him to dumbness.

"Don't bother with your lies, Safar said. I've spoken to my father. I know what's going on here. And I know you're responsible."

He leaned closer, face inches away from Kalasariz. For your sake, I hope I've made myself clear."

Kalasariz choked on an answer rising up in his frozen throat. Another snap of the fingers and it burst out.

"Yes! Very clear!"

"I'll decide whether to continue to let you live after you've helped us with the demons, Safar said. How many pieces of you remain to enjoy that life is entirely up to you."

Some of Kalasariz craft returned to him and with it, boldness.

Still, he stumbled on his first attempt. I can do more than rid Kyrania of the demons, AcoI mean, my friend."

Safar seemed amused. You almost called me acolyte, didn't you? he said. Odd, isn't it, how things change? The grand become small. He gestured at Kalasariz. The small become grand. He touched his breast.

Kalasariz recovered from his mistake. He smiled that old thin smile.

"Yes, it is odd, Lord Timura, he said. But you see how easily I can change with the events? Your new title comes flows smoothly to my lips, sir. And I must say it fits very you very well."

Safar chuckled. You're good, Kalasariz. I have to admit that."

The spymaster moved for that gap. Good enough, Lord Timura, to be of immense value to your king. I know the demon court well. I know King Manacia, Prince Luka and their Grand Wazier, Lord Fari. I know their weaknesses, which are legion, and other important things as well.

"King Protarus might be very angry with you if something happened to me and he missed such a great opportunity."

"Oh, it's an absolute certainty that Protarus would want to hear all these things, Safar said. Preferably from your living lips, rather than a dry report I made after I tortured the information from you.

"But understand this, Kalasariz. The king and I are friends. Close friends. If I killed you I would go to him and confess my error. Then I'd excuse myself, saying, But I couldn't help it, Iraj!

He paused, chilling Kalasariz with his easy grin. I call him Iraj in private, you know. And he calls me Safar. Just like when we were boys playing together."

Then he went on, Anyway, I'd say, I couldn't help it, Iraj! I had this sudden hate for him. I wanted his blood to answer for his crimes against me and my family. Then I'd hang my head in shame and wonder aloud if my mistake was so grave that it might cost us many more lives to win the war.

"And you know what he'd say? He'd say, and Safar deepened his voice to sound like Protarus, 'Well it couldn't be helped, Safar. I'd have done the same thing in your place. When blood cries, it must be answered. Come, my friend. Let us send for the women and strong drink. We'll mourn your failings like men should. We'll get drunk together and pleasure ourselves until dawn!

Kalasariz stomach burned as if lava had flowed into it.

Safar laughed at his discomfort.

"You see how it is for you? he said to Kalasariz. You understand your position."

"Yes, Lord Timura, Kalasariz said, barely controlling the quiver in his voice. I understand quite well."

He heard a rustle in the woods and saw several soldiers step out behind Safar. They wore the uniforms of Protarus men.

Then he noticed the soldier leading the group was remarkably handsome.

No… beautiful! And it was a woman, not a man.

She came up to Safar. That was magnificently done, Lord Timura, she said.

But her voice was low and the way she spoke revealed that she called him by more loving names in private.

She gave Safar such a look of adoration it crept past Kalasariz numbness and lit his cunning.

Adoring women, he thought, can be very dangerous.

Both to the enemy of the man who'd earned that devotion.

And to the man himself.

Kalasariz raised his cup in a toast. My friends, he said, this night is just one more proofno matter how smallof King Manacia's grand vision of a united Esmir."

He glanced around the open air banquet area. Rough board tables were spread across a freshly mowed lawn. Immense mounds of food were heaped on the tables, with jugs of heady Kyranian wine running down the center. Demons, scores of demons, sat before the tables, fixing him with their yellow eyes. Cups lifted expectantly, waiting for him to end his toast.

"Even here in far Kyrania, he continued, a human sits among his demon brethren, supping and drinking. An equal among equals. A mortal"

"Oh, finish the damned toast, Kalasariz! the big demon sitting beside him growled. I'm thirsty!"

"Yes, well, uh, Kalasariz faltered, UhHere's to King Manacia! Long may he reign."

The demons shouted approval, downed their drinks and turned back to their tables, refilling goblets and stuffing their maws with steaming food.

Nervously, Kalasariz slopped wine in his cup and downed it in one quick gulp. Hidden under his clothingnext to his skinwas the stone idol, so warm with anticipation it was almost hot. Once in awhile he even heardquite faintlyGundara's excited hiss of Shut up, shut up, to his twin. Kalasariz had been warned that any suspicious action would bring the little Favorite boiling out to punish him.

Moving through the tables were human slaves, heads low, platters high, going from demon to demon to offer more delicacies. The demons ate greedily, as if all the free food supplied by Kalasariz in this spontaneous banquet had made them more ravenous than normal.

"Would the master wish more wine? murmured a voice at his elbow. It was Safar, dressed as a slave and bearing a jug. The other humans in the banquet area were his soldiers posing as slaves, all waiting for the signal to strike.

"Yes, please, Kalasariz said, offering his cup. It was refilled and Safar bowed humbly and stepped back.

"Why are you so polite to him? the demonwhose name was Quanasked. Are you drunk?"

"No, no, I'm not drunk, Kalasariz said.

"That's your problem, then, Quan said. You're distracted by a low level of spirited fluids. That's why you're spoiling our slaves, instead of giving them good solid blows for asking, instead of anticipating.

"Your cup was empty. He should have filled it!"

Quan turned to Safar. Do the same to me, you little human worm, he said, and I'll bite off your head."

"Yes, exalted one, Safar said, bobbing his head. Thank you, exalted one."

Quan turned back to Kalasariz. You see? That's how it's done!"

"I'll remember that, Quan, Kalasariz said. It's good advice."

A beautiful slave girlLeiria in disguisemoved along his table, bearing a tray of roasted kabobs. They smelled so delicious Kalasariz almost forgot the danger he was in. As she approached, hot kabob grease sputtering and splattering, his mouth filled with water.

He reached out a hand to grab a spear as she went by. Safar stepped between them, raising the jug and then leaning over, pretending to top up the wine cup.

"Don't eat the kabobs, he whispered, then withdrew.

Kalasariz suddenly found his mouth had gone dry thinking about what he'd almost done.

Beside him Quan munched with much gusto. This is delicious, Kalasariz, he said. You should try it!"

He waved the spear of savory meat beneath Kalasariz nose. The delicious odor, magically enhanced, was so powerful he nearly forgot himself again. He snatched his hand back just in time.

"I wish I could, he said, making a mournful face. It does smell wonderful. But I'm forbidden to eat lamb this month. My religion, you know."

All over the banquet area the other demons were gobbling down the kabobs, smacking their lips, wiping their chins and shouting for the slaves to bring more.

"That's the trouble with religion, Quan said with some sympathy. Always forbidding this and forbidding that. There's so many forbiddens that a poor fiend barely knows what to do."

He stripped the rest of the meat off the spear and popped it into his maw. He chewed mightily, then swallowed, a look of pure bliss on his face.

"You know the first thing I'd do, he said, if I were king?"

"What's that? Kalasariz asked.

"I'd banish religion. Toss it right out. Start my own religion. And the first thing I'd do after that is turn the forbiddens on their head. All that was forbidden would become compulsory. And everything that was compulsory would go the king's committee for a good long study."

He gave Kalasariz a friendly jab with his claw.

"I'll bet I'd be damned popular, he said. The most popular king in his"

And Quan broke off as his eyes suddenly glazed over and he pitched forward.

Kalasariz yanked his arm away and Quan's head struck the table with much force.

The banquet area was suddenly filled with similar sounds of demon heads slamming into wood. Then there was silence.

Kalasariz looked about and saw the demon guards had noticed something was amiss and were running forward.

Leiria shouted a war cry, ripping off her robe to show the mail beneath. She drew her sword and rushed the guards. Other cries rang out as Safar's soldiers revealed themselves and leaped into the fray.

It was quick, bloody work. Before Kalasariz knew it all the demons but three were dead. And Leiria, along with half a dozen human soldiers, was pressing in to end that annoyance.

Safar dumped Quan's corpse out of the chair and slid into it. He cleaned a winecup with his sleeve and filled it up.

"I won't ask you for a toast, he said to Kalasariz. Your friend was right. He indicated the dead demon slumped on the ground. You're much too long winded."

And Safar drank the wine down.