David Grace - The Accidental Magician

"Shenar, grand wizard extra ordinaire, at your service, young man. You say this ring will be my payment for ridding you of a few nightmares?"

"Yes, I-"

"A moment, a moment. Let me examine my fee more closely." Shenar grabbed Grantin's left hand. Squinting and straining, his eyes barely two inches above the ring, Shenar studied the ornament from all angles. After a thorough inspection he clasped the band with his right hand, holding Grantin's palm in his left, and attempted to twist the ring free. After two or three fruitless attempts Shenar nodded his head sagely and let go Grantin's hand.

"The ring seems to be rather firmly affixed," Shenar suggested.

"As I said, it is a family heirloom. When it was passed down to me by my uncle he imparted a special enchantment to the band to restrain me from parting with it for some casual purpose. Naturally, for a wizard of your great powers, the nullification of this minor charm will be no problem at all, a trivial exercise at best."

"You seem to hold little respect for my powers, young man," Shenar responded slyly. "First you ask me to formulate a spell to rid you of a nightmare curse, and now willy-nilly you suggest I perform a second incantation and rid you of this ring. And all this for one fee? Two spells should require two payments."

"You have a brilliant mind, to be sure, learned Shenar, but I view this problem from a slightly different angle. The second spell, that of loosening the ring, is not for my benefit but for yours, for in so doing you free your property, the ring, from a site, my finger, inconsistent with your ownership. Without the second spell the first cannot be compensated. In a sense, it is I who bend myself to your needs by making my person available for the formulation of the enchantment of removal."

"Well, young man, there do seem to be several ways of looking at the situation. Perhaps a solution to this dilemma will present itself. But where are my manners? You are a guest in my home, and I keep you standing here in the entranceway. Come, come, let me show you to quarters where you can spend the night. Tomorrow morning perhaps another solution will present itself."

Waddling forward, Shenar led Grantin to a brass-bound door. In a trice the wizard had unlocked it and, waving his hand, bid Grantin follow him down stone steps to the chambers beneath the house. To Grantin the doorway appeared no more inviting than the entrance to the pits of hell.

"Oh, there's no need to go to any trouble for me. I can sleep right here on this lovely rug."

"Nonsense, I insist. If you want me to help you with your ring-I mean, your nightmares-you must let me show you my hospitality. Come along." Shenar began to walk down the steps. Grantin reluctantly followed. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Shenar continued forward. At the end of the passage he threw back the last door and waved Grantin inside.

"There you go, young man, right in there. Now, don't be shy. Go right ahead, and we will talk in the morning."

Through the doorway Grantin could see bars marching across the center of the room. He stood rooted in place two feet in front of the portal.

"But… but… that is, ah…" '

"Let us have no delays here, young man. Go ahead with you now." So saying. Shenar reached for Grantin with his open right hand. Because of his meager height the wizard's palm approached Grantin's body near the seat of his pants. When his hand was a few inches distant a spark leaped from Shenar's fingers and buried itself in Grantin's rump. With a cry more of surprise than of pain he leaped forward. His vision flickered, and Grantin found himself behind the row of bars. In a flash Shenar closed and locked the door.

"There, my young friend, you see how easy it was. Now, you just spend a pleasant evening, and in the morning I will get to work on that ring." Smiling, Shenar nodded politely toward Grantin's fear-ridden face, then, turning lightly on his feet, ambled back down the corridor.

How could this have happened to him? Without even so much as lifting a finger he had allowed a madman to imprison him. In frustration Grantin grabbed the bars and vainly attempted to rattle them loose from their sockets. In a few seconds his fury was spent, and, sick at heart, he turned to examine his new home. Only then did he spy a Fanist's gray form. With a startled gasp he leaped backward flat against the wall.

"Hello," the native said.

"Hello," Grantin replied uneasily. Fanists had never molested humans, although, in these borderlands, who knew what strange affairs took place? For the time being at least they both seemed to be on less than the most favorable terms with Shenar.

"Excuse me," Grantin said. "You startled me. It appears that we are both involuntary guests of the mad wizard." Grantin studied the Fanist carefully. Could this be the native from his dreams? And Shenar. Didn't he vaguely remember a nightmare in which such a man pranced and threw glowing bolts at a caged native?

"Are you… I mean, you seem quite familiar to me. Have you been here a long time?" Grantin asked.

"Almost two weeks," the native replied. "You have business with the small one?"

"I came to him for help in ridding me of a spell, but it seems that he has more than a simple business transaction in mind. I fear that he means to take advantage of me."

"I, as well. He asks questions for which there are no answers. You stare at me strangely. Is there some problem with your vision?"

"No," Grantin replied hesitantly. "It's just that you look very familiar, like someone I've seen in a dream. Do you, by any chance-I know this sounds strange, but is it possible that you wear a blue jewel against your skull beneath the skin of your forehead?"

The Fanist leaped forward. Grantin cringed against the far wall.

"You know me? You know of my mission? These are secrets no human may share. Has Ajax sent you to win my release? Are you one of the Brothers?"

"No, I… I mean, I don't know. I don't understand what you're talking about. I had a dream. I saw you and, I think, Shenar. In my nightmare you had a blue gem beneath your forehead, and Shenar was torturing you… It's this stone, this blasted stone. It's driving me mad." Futilely Grantin tugged at the ring.

Using the muscles surrounding his eyeballs, the Fanist increased the bulge of the lens until his telescopic vision gave him a clear picture of Grantin's ring. He studied the gem for just an instant and then relaxed his grip on the bars.

"I understand," the Fanist said, backing away.

"You understand! I wish I understood. Don't just stand there. Explain it to me. Ever since I met that woman my life has been a waking nightmare."

"The stones all sense each other, the overflow of their energies."

Grantin met the Fanist's explanation with a quizzical expression.

"Your stone is a powerstone, a magic stone. My stone is the same for me. Red must be the stone for humans. Blue is the stone for my people. In sleep, in times of torment, apparently the stones of one race can sense a bit of the energy swirling about the stones of the other. Shenar wants the secret of our powerstones. I have refused to tell him. Naturally you may not tell him either."

"Powerstones, secrets… I just want to be out of here and home and free of this accursed ring. If I could just do away with all of this, I'd never complain about Uncle Greyhorn's chores again. Isn't there some way that we could pool our resources to escape from here?"

"Not I. The small one has enchanted me with a spell of great power. I am withheld from uttering the words and making the signs. And you?"

"Me? Has he put a spell on me? Well, we came in; we talked, and he led me down here. No, no, I don't think he bothered to. Do you think there's enough power in this ring to save us?"

"Perhaps. You are not a very good wizard, I can tell that. Certainly Shenar does not fear you. It's possible that you might be able to do something before he returns in the morning."