L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

The rope fell from the robber’s waist He looked down in surprise, then grinned and stepped forward, holding up unmarked wrists in a gesture of triumph.

“The gods have spoken!” cried a woman in the crowd. “The God of the Golden Spear protects him!”

“Or perhaps the Goddess of Brides,” another woman countered.

“Yes, it would seem that the gods have given their judgment, and that the thief is to live,” Randhir looked as though he had bitten down on a rotten nut, but he managed to force the words out.

“Praise Heaven!” Malambroso cried, going limp — then straightening in alarm as Florimel gave a cry of delight and ran to throw her arms around the thief’s neck. Grinning, he caught her up and whirled her about. “He cannot many her!” Malambroso cried.

“I did not say that he would,” Rajah Randhir grated, “for though he shall live, he shall not go unpunished. He shall be a common soldier in my army, and I shall send him to the border, so that when my greedy neighbor invades, this robber chieftain shall be the first whom arrows strike! If the gods still protect him then, if he comes home from the battle alive and well, I may permit him to pay court to the maiden — or I may find more tasks for him to do, many more, until he has proved his worth and made amends, at least in part, for all the misery he has caused.”

The thief put down Shobhani and turned to salaam to the Rajah. “Whatsoever you wish, O Diamond of Justice, I shall do! Indeed, if I had known virtue might win me the hand of so beauteous a maiden as this, I would have forsaken my evil ways long ago!”

Shobhani threw her arms around him again, and the people cheered as Malambroso moaned — in harmony with Chalmers.

“Stand away maiden!” the Rajah commanded. “He must go forthwith to the border, this very night! Soldiers! Take him to your barracks and equip him for the journey!”

The soldiers surrounded the bandit and marched him off, back into the city.

“I wonder how many beatings he will sustain between the city and the border?” Chalmers muttered.

“Accidents will happen,” Shea said virtuously. “Hey, it’s gotta be better than dying, Doc — and he’s proved he can take it.”

As the crowd moved off, cheering the same man they had cursed only an hour before, the Rajah turned on Shea and Chalmers, “Well enough, magicians! I cannot prove it, and I certainly do not know why you did it — but I could swear his escape was your doing, and not the work of the gods at all!” He gave Malambroso a narrow glance. “He is one of you too, is he not?”

“I assure you, O Gem of Insight,” said Malambroso, that I have no wish to see my daughter Shobhani many a thief!”

“No, but you would rather that than see her commit sati would you not? Come, Shea, admit it!”

“Okay, we’re guilty,” Shea sighed.

“Harold!” Chalmers snapped in alarm.

“Fear not,” Randhir said grimly, “I have already spoken, and I shall not reverse my judgment again. However, it is not my judgment you need fear now, but that of Shiva — for it is with his justice that you have interfered!”

“Perhaps,” Shea said slowly, “or perhaps I have been sent here by another god, whether I knew it or not. Who knows but that I may have been the instrument of Heaven?”

“Oh? And what god would choose a foreigner for his tool?” Randhir said, not quite sneering.

“Oh . . . one who likes to see handsome young men sporting with beautiful young women,” Shea said slowly.

Randhir frowned, “Krishna, you mean?”

At that point, Shea was open to all suggestions. He shrugged. “He loved playing with the milkmaids himself; didn’t he?”

The Rajah’s eyes narrowed, “If you truly believe that,” he said, “I challenge you to prove it by coming with me to Krishna’s temple and standing before his statue. If you are not struck down by Krishna’s anger, I may begin to believe you are sent by a god, and are not liable to punishment yourself, for interfering with the king’s justice.”

A look of alarm spread over Chalmers’ features, but Shea felt only a wash of relief. Statues were only sculptures, after all — lumps of wood or rock fashioned into something resembling human form. He bowed. “As you wish, O Scale of Justice.”

“But,” Malambroso said hastily, “since the maiden Shobhani is the cause of this difficulty, should she not also stand by us before the statue?”

“She shall,” the Rajah promised. “Come!” He turned away, and his soldiers stepped up behind the three enchanters, spears out to prod.

As they followed the King Chalmers muttered to Malainbroso, “You colossal idiot! Admittedly, a statue is only a statue, but you never know what tricks priests can work, especially in a magical universe! Do you want Florimel to be struck by lightning, too?”

“Come, Chalmers.” Malambroso had regained his former aplomb. “You do not truly believe such a thing can happen, do you?”

“Well . . . no,” Chalmers admitted, “and it does keep her from getting lost.” But a gleam had come into his eye, and Shea wondered what he was planning.

He found out when they stood before the image of Krishna — wooden, apprently, for it was painted, and the blue face of the boy-god looked down upon them as Chalmers reached out to stroke Shobhani’s black hair, muttering a verse. Alarmed, Malambroso spun to prevent him — but too late. The woman looked up, blinking in confusion, then saw Chalmers and cried, “Reed! Oh, thank Heaven! But where are we?”

Malambroso groaned, “I shall win her yet, Chalmers! You shall regret this!”

“Maybe sooner than you think.” Shea eyed the statue nervously.

Chalmers turned to him with a frown, “Whatever can you mean?”

“Only that this universe has its own rules,” Shea reminded him, “and Krishna might be more than a myth, here.”

Chalmers stared, and alarm was just beginning to show in his face when a shaft of light burst from the statue, engulfing them all.

Shea flailed, catching Chalmers’ hand, then stood, frozen by the glitter that dazzled him and filled all the universe about him, He could only hope Chalmers had been able to catch hold of Florimel. Then Shea found room to wonder if this was really what it was like to be hit by lightning, and if it was, it was odd, because he felt no pain.

Then the dazzle died, the ground seemed to push itself up under his feet, and he looked around him, blinking in confusion — Florimel, arms around her husband’s neck, cried, “Oh, Reed, praise Heaven! We am home!”

Belphebe started to struggle up from the chair where she sat watching, but Shea reached her in two steps, dropped to one knee, and enfolded her in an ardent embrace. The room was very quiet for a few minutes, as the two married couples celebrated the travelers safe return with a kiss and a promise — of more kisses to come.

Finally, Shea came up for air and turned to Chalmers to ask. “How did you do it, Doc?”

“I did not, really,” Chalmers still looked rather dazed. “I only reached out for Florimel’s hand — I remember thinking that if I were going to die by electrocution, I could at least die holding her. I reached out for your hand, too, but the hand I touched was quite bony — I am certain it was Malambroso’s. and I let go at once. Even as I did, though, I felt his hand pulling away from mine, but even as I caught yours. I could swear I heard him cry out in fright.” He shuddered. “I could wish the man many evils, but none so bad as that cry seemed to express.”

“You don’t think he . . .” Shea couldn’t finish the question.

“No, I do not.” Chalmers collected himself with a visible effort. “I think it probable that Krishna — or his priests; they may have been magicians who resented the competition — sent our old adversary back to his home, as he seems to have sent us to ours. And oh, Harold, I am mightily glad he did!”