Robert Hughes - The Wizard in Waiting

“And what was that?” Pelmen begged eagerly.

No one ever knew. Sheth went into meeting with those of the faith, and emerged with the bonded crystals still in hand. It was said that, along with his craft, he’d poured himself into those crystals. He couldn’t give them up to be used by anyone else. Alone he scaled the Central Gate, intent on destroying the beast that had made the place its own.

“And?” asked Pelmen sadly, for he’d already guessed the tale’s unhappy conclusion.

The dragon devoured him. The magical bond that had melded the crystals into one shattered in the instant of his passing. And in the final conversation this House recalls before falling into slumber, someone told of seeing the dragon tossing the sparkling crystals from one mouth to the other. These magical objects contained the sum of the one land’s wisdom, and the fool dragon was playing catch with them.

“Not quite the sum,” Pelmen muttered.

What’s that?

“They lack, evidently, the contribution from the party of faith.”

So they do. The House was silent for a moment. Perhaps that was to have been the Power’s contribution? Pelmen nodded to the damp darkness. “I’m sure of it”

This must be considered.

“Then the crystals were never made for communication at all?”

You’ve been told the story of their construction, said the House, a bit peevishly. Was anything said about communication?

“No.”

Very well, then. When they’re used in a task for which they weren’t intended, they scatter waves of magical nausea that cause this House dire distress. It would be greatly appreciated if you would remove this magical thorn from within these walls.

“Ill do my best. But I must have your cooperation if I’m to succeed.”

Gladly offered. With one condition. “Which is?”

No magic.

The phrase thundered at Pelmen from every side. “Done,” said Pelmen, and he meant it. The conversation extended into the early morning, ending at last only because of their mutual need to absorb what 2 64

had already been discussed. House and man fell silent, but with an implied promise to renew the contact as soon as possible. Pelmen lay awake thinking for a long time, but finally slipped into sleep, leaving the House alone. It pondered a new idea that seemed at the same time very ancient:

What is this Power?

A heavy, wet mist clung to the heights of Dragonsgate. The band of slavers wore it like a cloak in the darkness as they pounded down out of the southern mouth and onto the flatlands of Chaomonous. At the head of the column Bron-wynn rode, her jaw set in hatred, her eyes aflame. At the base of the mountains the fog cleared, and the stars could be seen clearly above them. But she didn’t tilt her head back to look. She peered straight ahead, down the road to the capital, driven by her determination to murder Ligne and her lover.

Pinter and Tibb also rode with determination they were determined not to get lost in the dark. They rode horses stolen from the skyfaithers, and fortunately these mounts were proving equal to the task. But the two made a point of staying toward the center of the pack. They had not experienced universal acceptance among this band of outlaws, and it would have pleased some of their companions to abandon them along the road. In spite of Tibb’s insistence that “a cutthroat is a cutthroat wherever he’s from,” their differences with these Chaons grew more pronounced with each passing hour.

The moon rose blood-red over their left shoulders, dimming the stars and throwing eerie illumination before them. But the strange light did not reveal the forms of twenty sleeping figures until the column was already upon them. The campers woke to the terrifying sound of an onrushing wave of hooves. Most were alert enough to scatter out of the way, but a few unfortunates were deep sleepers. These never woke again. The charging army never stopped. It soon had disappeared to the south.

The moon was long gone, and the sun’s glow was just beginning to light the horizon, when the small group of blue faitbers finished burying their dead. Already, these four who had left them in the night seemed a little less human and a lot more holy than the living. On a green knoll only a few hundred feet from the site of the midnight tragedy, Naquin committed their bodies to the ground. A few moments later, as the sky turned from pink to gold, he quietly dismissed the survivors.

The tiny group of missionaries dispersed in every direction, more determined than ever to share their Prophet and their book.

Naquin turned back to gaze at the freshly turned dirt one last time, then spun on his heels to follow the band of outlaws to Chaomonous.

Pelmen awoke refreshed and alert and immediately jumped off his cot. He zigzagged through the corridors to the wide hallway that circled the outer perimeter of every floor of the castle and found a window. It was early still the sun was not yet up, but the red sky above the horizon painted the day with promise. He raced to the gardens, found a secluded spot behind a bush, and addressed the House again: “Good morning.”

It may prove so.

“Or it may not. The Queen has promised me a trip to the dungeon this morning.”

Her words were heard. “Any idea what’s behind it?”

Perhaps it’s the result of the Lord of Security’s suspicions.

“Do you know anything specific? Does either Joss or the Queen suspect that I am more than just a fool?”

The Lord of Security is secretive as well as suspicious. He says little, and this House cannot read thoughts. Actually, the man is proving a relatively responsible General in spite of his failure.

“Failure?”

He allowed a captive to be stolen from the dungeon of this House! the castle snorted. Pelmen heard bells ringing in the distance.

“That angers you?”

Certainly. Escaping prisoners threaten the integrity of this House as a fortress. Such failure on the part of the warders is intolerable.

Pelmen felt alarmed at the castle’s fury. “Would it anger you if I were to rescue someone from the dungeon?”

Every soul in the castle was awakened by the Imperial House’s clamorous reply. Pelmen couldn’t translate the curses, but he could tell they were curses. He set his jaw, and plunged ahead:

“That disturbs me, since I intend to do just that But before you break into another chorus, hear me for a moment.” The castle was silent “You asked me to remove the painful pyramid from within you, and I’ll do my best to help you. But I want something in return.”

And that is? the Imperial House demanded.

“Freedom for the woman in the lower dungeon, and a route of escape for myself and my friends.” Pelmen expected another barrage of bells, but none came. The House was silent. “Are you thinking?”

This must be considered.

Pelmen nodded and settled back on his rock to wait. As he waited, the castle came awake or rather, the people in it did. He became aware of the birds chirping above him and leaned back to enjoy their beauty.

Can you do anything about them? the House grunted, making Pelmen jump.

“About what?” he asked when he recovered.

These infuriating fowls! “You don’t like birds, either?”

They besmirch the roof and terraces of this House. Daily.

Pelmen nodded. “I see. Very well, you help me plan my escape route, and I’ll steal the pyramid and free the birds. Fair enough?”

This goes against the nature of this House! “Your requests go against my nature too. I’m no thief and I like birds.” The House thought for several more minutes.

Very well. “You’re agreed?”

You remember the condition?

“I do. No magic.”

“Good morrow, clown,” said a voice above him, and Pelmen whirled around in shock to look behind him. “Up here, fool.”