David Gerrold - The Flying Sorcerers

Shoogar paced furiously as he spoke, red-eyed and wild. “He has insulted custom, Lant. He has given names to women and taught them the trades of men! He has interrupted housetree consecrations, and turned housetrees into prickly plants. He has reduced our village life to chaos. Some of our traditional trades no longer exist, while others, like coppersmithery, have swollen monstrously in importance.”

He stopped pacing and looked at me. “He has introduced new concepts to us, Lant. He has taught us evil things that lessen the value of life and increase the importance of things !

“But most of all,” he said. “He has insulted me . He would not teach me to fly, until he needed to fly himself; and he still has not taught me the spells that make electrissy. We depend on his charity for his lightning boxes and airmakers! He has undermined my authority with his spurious cures, so that they trade my spells for his at ten to one!”

“I was bound to him by an oath of servitude, but he never asked for my help in anything. Never, not once. He even threw my sails overboard!”

“No little death spell would retrieve my honor,” Shoogar screamed. “I will bring a moon down upon his head! This one last time I must show my might, before he escapes me forever!”

“It won’t help you,” I said feebly.

“You don’t have to, Lant. I’m sure it was your help last time that yn gvied me up.”

“How long will this take?”

“Not long. I will finish this soon and then I will chant. I will chant until the red sun is high in the west. Then we will move off and wait.”

“I would rather you do something about finding us some food,” I grumbled.

“Forget your stomach for once, Lant. Before the blue sun rises again, Purple will be destroyed.”

Purple tried his calling thing three more times. On the third try the red light flashed. It began winking steadily.

Purple screamed with delight and threw the device joyously into the air. He capered about wildly, singing and dancing. “I’m going home, I’m going home — I’m going home.”

He flung himself on the ground and rolled and kicked. He jumped up with a holler and ran furiously in all directions. Back and forth, in a great circle about me, he pranced and yelled.

At last — it seemed like days — he tired and came gasping up to me. “Lant, I can hardly believe it. It has been so long,” he panted. “But it’s true. It’s happening. My mother egg has heard.”

I glanced nervously at the hill where Shoogar still worked. He was sitting and chanting now. “Uh, how long will it take before your egg gets here, Purple?”

He frowned. “Who cares? It’s coming — that’s all.”

“I care!” I almost screamed.

He gave me a peculiar look. “I hadn’t realized this meant so much to you.”

“Well, it does,” I said, in a slightly quieter tone. “How long will it take?”

“Maybe a day,” he said. “Maybe a little longer. The egg was on standby . It will have to activate itself, come to full power, take bearings, check its systems, plot a course, make an approach — it will take time, Lant. The egg could not possibly be here before blue sunset.”

I groaned.

“I know how it must pain you, my friend. But fear not. I have waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

I groaned and trudged away, clutching at the ache in my stomach.

I went down to the shore. The sea surged restlessly at the slope where Wilville and Orbur worked.

“Father, you look ill,” said one.

“I am,” I said. “I am tired and hungry and I hurt all over. I long for a decent bed and a decent meal —”

“Wilville has found some cavernmouth eggs,” said Orbur. “Do you want one?”

I groaned. But it was better than nothing. I took the heavy sphere and bit at its rind. A salty-sweet taste flowed into my mouth. “Oh, that’s awful,” I said. I took a drink of water from a ballast sack.

“Don’t let Shoogar see you doing that.”

“Curse Shoogar!” I said. “Do you know what he’s doing? He’s trying to call down a moon!”

Orbur snorted. Wilville didn’t say anything.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“We heard you,” said Wilville. “Shoogar is trying to call down a moon. At least it will keep him out of our way.”

“Oh,” I said. Apparently they were so intent on what they were doing, they were oblivious to what was going on around them. “What are you working on?” I asked. I squatted down on my haunches to look.

They explained. One of the pulleys had worked loose from a bicycle frame. But they had almost no tools at all to work with. Purple had thrown them all overboard. They were working now with rocks and sticks and shreds of aircloth. “If we can get this working again, we can use the boat to get away from here, whether we have windbags or not.”

I nodded and offered my help, but Orbur said I would only be in the way. I gathered up the cavernmouth eggs and took them off a ways. I found some driftwood and made a small fire to roast them. They were still awful, but they were food.

I took one up to Purple, but he had spread out a piece of aircloth from the ripped balloon and was snoring blissfully and peacefully; it was the first time that I had seen him completely relaxed since I had known him.

I let him sleep and trudged across the slope to Shoogar. He shook his head at the sight of the egg, “I will have it later, when I finish my chant.”

I looked at his gigantic spell pattern. “Why don’t you draw it around Purple?” I asked.

“Why bother? If a moon falls on him, it won’t matter if it hits him directly or not — it’s going to make another Circle Sea.”

“Oh,” I said. I went back to my sons and watched them work.

They worked for most of the day, stopping only to chew on a piece of roast cavernmouth egg or to swill down some water. By the time night had fallen and the red sun was seeping into the west, the bicycle pulley was working again as well as it would ever be.

The day was rapidly nearing its end. Purple’s egg had still not arrived, and Shoogar was still on the hill chanting.

My sons stretched out tiredly on their blankets and chewed gratefully on the rubbery eggmeat. Had they had their tools, they might have finished the job in less than an hour, but encumbered as they were, it took nearly all day. They were exhausted from the frustrations involved.

I lay on my back and stared into the sky. Already one of the moons had emerged in the darkening east, and others would join it shortly. I watched with a helpless feeling. I had been unable to dissuade Shoogar in his spellmaking. Warning Purple would do no good; I knew what he thought of Shoogar’s magic.

I tried to guess what pattern the moons had assumed. Two of the three big ones made a diagonal across a line of four small ones, so tiny they barely showed their colors.

The sign of the Bent Cross?

No matter. Whatever sign it was, Shoogar would think of a way to use it —

He came running over the hill then. He pulled me roughly to my feet, “Come on, Lant. It’s time to retreat.”

“Huh?” I said sleepily. “What —?”

“I’ve finished my spell. All we have to do now is wait.” He pulled at my arm.

I followed him down to the boat. He was grabbing things at random and throwing them into the craft where they splashed into the water. “Come on, Lant, come on — we haven’t got any time.”

I woke my sons. They were just as confused and upset as I — and twice as grumpy. “If Shoogar’s spell really does work,” I insisted, “this is no place we want to be.” They allowed themselves to be pushed down the slope. Wilville pulled the plug to drain the water from the boat — it was no longer needed — the airbags were so limp they could no longer hold up even the rigging.