Allan Cole - Wolves of the Gods

Palimak giggled nervously, which made the crowd laugh. Big as he was, the giggles made him seem like a harmless boy again.

Cymbals crashed and he shouted: "Is everybody happy!"

"YES!" the crowd roared back.

"How happy are you?" he cried.

"VERY HAPPY!" came the reply.

"That's good," Palimak said. "Because I'm going to need your help with this spell. All right?" There was an enthusiastic chorus of agreement.

"Great! Now, do you all have those amulets we gave you?" Everyone shouted that they did.

"Are you all wearing them? I mean everybody-especially the little kids like me, and the babies, too."

There was much rustling and adjustment as the people all checked to see.

When he was sure they were ready, Palimak said, "Now I want you all to concentrate real hard while I say this spell."

He stopped. Shook his head. "Oh, wait a minute. I almost forgot. First you have to hold on to the amulets. Then concentrate. Got it?"

Nods all around. "Good. Now, listen real close while I say the spell."

He drew his toy sword and raised it high, chanting in his high, child's voice:

"Jester, Jester,

What's the riddle?

Up, or down, or in the middle?

Jester, Jester,

Tell us quick.

Happy, to sad, what's the trick?"

He waved his stubby sword and his eyes turned huge and demon yellow. A cold shudder rolled through the audience and Palimak no longer looked like such a comic figure. He seemed huge and forbidding-a giant child with a frightening grin and alien powers. The clay amulets suddenly turned uncomfortably warm and people tried to let them drop, but their hands had become unwilling fists, gripping the jester talismans tightly.

No one cried out, but there were low moans of fear that tore at Palimak, almost making him lose concentration. He saw his grandfather and grandmother and they were staring at him in terror. He nearly stopped right then, nearly turned to find his father and go running into his arms, begging him not to make him do this. It was awful. Everybody would hate him.

Gundara's voice shrilled in his ear. "Go on, Little Master! You can't stop now!"

And Gundaree added, "This was your idea, remember?"

Palimak bore down and got his focus back. Now, for the last part of the spell:

"I'm so sorry,

I'm so blue.

But a bad spell's got you,

So what else can I do?

Happy to sad,

You're no longer glad,

And I have to make you mad

Because it's good for you!"

He paused, gathering power from the Favorites, then he lashed out with his sword, shouting:

"Begone!"

He cast the spell and the sky immediately dimmed as a huge cloud moved over the arena. It was accompanied by a chill wind that rolled over the Kyranians, wet and clammy and tasting like salty tears.

The villagers groaned as the machine's spell of gladness was swept away and cruel sanity returned.

There was a funeral-like wail as everyone realized they had been living an illusion. Dwelling for awhile in a mirage of happiness, while outside Iraj Protarus and his demon wolves waited, prowling and anxious to feed.

On the platform the golden light had vanished and Palimak was small again, a forlorn little boy, head hanging in shame because he had made his grandparents cry. Then Leiria and his father were embracing him and whispering words of comfort, which made him feel better-but only a little. Then they all took their places again, Safar in the center, raising his hands to address a much different crowd than he had faced only a few moments before.

"There's a lot of things I could say right now," he told them. "Beginning with how sorry I am I was forced to trick you. Such words, however, would be empty of meaning to you now."

His eyes moved from familiar face to familiar face, many of which were flushed and swollen with growing rage.

"Instead I want to caution you," he said. "I can see that many of you are angry with me and I don't blame you. Just be careful you don't turn it on yourselves. Soon you will all feel like fools for allowing yourself to become victims of the machine's spell. For that's all it was-a spell you had no control over. And that spell was caused by the turtle idol you all saw when you entered Caluz. It was the idol-a magical machine-that dulled your wits and feelings and made you insane."

This won some grudging nods from some people and a snort of understanding from his father, who had been glaring at him along with the rest. Of all the Kyranians, Khadji was perhaps the proudest of his ability to reason. To see things as they really are. Only Myrna was his match.

"What I want you to fix on instead," Safar said, "is who you are. Kyranians! The greatest and rarest of people in all the world. Many miles and months ago we set off from our homeland-not in flight. Not in fear. But on a holy mission to save all beingkind."

There were heartening murmurs of approval. Safar pressed on.

"But to accomplish this great deed," he said, "we must first guard our own lives. For if we perish, who will take up our banner? Who will shoulder our cause?"

The murmurs grew louder, especially from the young soldiers like Renor and Seth, who were spurred on by growls of approval from the grizzled Sergeant Dario.

"My dear friends," Safar said, building on that changing mood. "That is why I had to awaken you. We are faced with both the gravest of dangers and the grandest of opportunities."

Safar knew that when good and evil are placed side by side, human nature would instantly grab for the good and give less weight to the evil. So he wasn't surprised when he saw all the faces brighten as hope was suddenly raised from the dead at the news of "the grandest of opportunities."

"In a short while," Safar said, "I will be called to consult with the Oracle of Hadin. This meeting has been our purpose all along. This is why we had to face the terrors of the Black Lands to come here. For we have good reason to believe that many of the answers we seek will be revealed to us by the Oracle."

He saw frowns and knew his people were growing vaguely disappointed. They were expecting an instant pot of gold, instead of a possibly long wait for what might or might not be good news from some mysterious Oracle who might decide to have a cranky day.

Safar smoothly dealt up what they really wanted, saying, "But before that hour comes, my friends, I have a great miracle to show you."

He pointed at Leiria, who held up the long black box. "In there," he said, "is a great gift. A magical gift that will give us the edge we need against Iraj Protarus!"

Prickling with excitement, everyone craned their heads to look as Leiria ceremoniously presented the box to Safar. He opened the lid slowly, heightening the suspense.

Safar stomped his foot and there was a crack! as he set off a smoke pellet with his heel. Purple smoke obscured the platform for a moment, then it dissolved and the crowd gasped when they saw the miniature airship hovering just above his head. Safar gestured and the little furnaces sparked into life and the airship sailed about in ever widening circles, until it came to the edge of the grassy ring where it took up position and skimmed around the edges.

Everyone applauded. Khadji even cried out in recognition. The airship was vaguely similar to magical devices he had helped Safar with many years ago during the demon wars.

"That is only the beginning of the miracle, my friends," Safar said. "In exactly one hour we will cast a spell that will reveal an even greater wonder. To weave that spell I have asked all our circus friends to assist us. When you entered this arena you were promised a show-and a show you shall get!"