David Grace - The Accidental Magician

"My lord's magic is great to overcome Greyhorn in spite of the ring he possesses."

"The ring he does not possess. You don't know how sadly your mission went awry, do you, Mara? There is no harm now in telling you. It was indeed Greyhorn's nephew to whom you delivered the ring."

"But he put it on…"

"Exactly. He put it on his finger and then couldn't get it off. His noble uncle should have chopped the digit off, but he botched the job. The lad escaped. Greyhorn has no more than his ordinary powers with which to oppose me, and he dare not denounce the scheme for fear of implicating himself. I will bring him here tonight and under rigorous interrogation extract what advantage I can for the coming battles against the Hartfords."

"But what about the nephew with the ring? Could he not turn its powers against you? Where is he now?"

"That is where you come in, my dear. That is the marvelous humor of this whole series of events. You did your job better than either of us realized. You enchanted young master Grantin without even realizing it."

"Yes, the idiot's come here to find you. Isn't that delightful? The report came in this afternoon. He's hiding in the tumbles east of the city. At this very instant my guards have the area surrounded."

In the corner Castor clamped his jaws together and cursed his fate. The significance of Grantin's hiding in his quarters could hardly be missed. Unless Hazar ate the stuffing all would be lost. Would Mara go through with the plan and perform the required incantation? Castor studied the female. It seemed to him that Hazar's news had brought her near a state of shock. Mara put down her fork and dropped all pretense of enjoying her meal. Her fingers played idly with the napkin while she struggled to regain her composure.

"But, my lord, if he's there, hidden in the tumbles with that ring, won't it be difficult to capture him? Will not his powers do great damage to your men, perhaps even enough to allow his escape?"

"Certainly, if I were a fool. If I chose to send in twenty or thirty armed men to flush him from hiding I have no doubt some lives would be lost. Not that I quail at bloodshed, but I need Grantin alive, at least until I can separate him from his ring. But really, Mara, the answer to your question is so simple I'm disappointed that you haven't seen it for yourself."

"I don't understand, unless-you don't mean…?"

"Ah, I see that you have figured it out at last. Don't be so upset. It is the simplest thing in the world. The young fellow has come all this way to find you, and I don't think we should disappoint him. You and one of the Grays-this fellow here will do.as well as any other," Hazar said, gesturing to Castor-"will be directed to the Hartford's hiding place by the Ajaj Obron, who is even now in the company of the captain of my guards. You will contrive some way to embrace the fellow. I am sure that you can think of something along those lines. When he's in your arms you will scratch the back of his neck with the edge of this ring. He will immediately fall into a deep sleep. You will then signal my guards to come and remove his body."

Mara looked at her plate and tried to organize her swirling thoughts. One thing was clear: if Hazar survived this dinner his plan would probably work. For a moment Mara considered abandoning her conspiracy but realized that she had no option but to proceed. If she failed tonight Nefra would take his own vengeance on her. At best, her fate would be delayed until Nefra fell under Hazar's sway and bargained away the secret of her participation in the plot in exchange for some benefit to himself. Forcing herself to eat, Mara stabbed a light-brown morsel with her fork.

"Your plan is most ingenious, my lord, and no doubt it will succeed. Of course I will do everything I can. It appears that we are about to have a long evening. We will need our strength, and it would be a shame to waste this excellent meal. Let us finish our dinner, and then this Gray and I will go off to meet the Hartford." By way of example Mara thrust the fragment into her mouth and motioned to Castor to refill her plate.

"A worthy idea. I'll need my strength for the days ahead. Gray, more wine and another scoop of stuffing- this has gone cold."

Castor filled the goblet, then ladled a generous portion of the rot-root-laced compound onto Hazar's plate. The Gogol lord captured a heaping forkful of the rich brown mixture. Castor and Mara watched anxiously as he conveyed the stuffing to his mouth. Hazar's jaw snapped open, his lips pulled back, and the tip of his fork began to enter his maw. At that instant Hazar gasped and grabbed his stomach with both hands. Abandoned in midair, the fork clattered noisily to the enameled plate, spewing its load of stuffing across the table. Convulsed with a series of violent cramps, Hazar doubled over and clutched his midriff. Greyhorn's attack had begun.

Mara stared indecisively at the writhing form. After a few seconds' delay, she called to the guards. Derma and two guards raced into the room. For a moment they also stood frozen as they beheld Hazar's agony.

"Fool!" Hazar groaned through clenched teeth. "Call my over-deacons. Bring them at once!"

Derma sent one of the guards to fetch Hazar's associate wizards, then strode forward himself to attempt to aid his lord. By the time Croman, Jasper, and Wax entered the chamber Hazar, with Denna's assistance, had already succeeded in neutralizing the worst of the pangs,

Hazar moaned a series of instructions and Croman quickly called up an appropriate protective spell. The pains rapidly subsided. Hazar, although clearly shaken by the attack, returned, more or less, to normal. Livid with rage, he screamed at his underlings:

"Complete your incantations! Call up the Firebird. I have work aplenty for the demon tonight."

At a sign from the over-deacons, Derma instructed the guards to clear the table. The ends of the tablecloth were pulled together to form a sack, upending plates, tureens, and goblets in the process. Croman, Jasper, and Wax scratched a large chalk triangle onto the table's surface. Each seated himself at one of the figure's points. Satchels were brought forth. Each of the over-deacons extracted powders, vials, crystals, fragments of bone and flesh, and, at last, an ivory simulacrum of a great winged lizard.

The over-deacons worked rapidly, reassembling the implements of the spell over which they had struggled all afternoon. Soon the crystals were positioned, the powders spread in the appropriate patterns, their faces and hands anointed with the required fluids. In droning resonant tones each recited his portion of the spell.

As the incantation proceeded the room grew dimmer, as if the wizards were sucking the very light from the glowpods to energize their spell. As the moment of climax approached each extracted a blade and sliced the middle finger on his left hand. Their arms extended, bisecting the edge of the triangle opposite their seats; their fingers met in the center of the figure, touched, and dripped blood in a common stream, thick, red, clinging drops splattering onto the figure of the Firebird.

By now the glowpods had flickered almost out. The only illumination derived from a phosphorescent glow in the air above the triangle, a radiance which illuminated the wizards' faces with a pearly light. From beyond the outer wall of Hazar's apartments could now be heard the sound of a raging whirlwind tattooed with the snaps and scrapes of nail and claw.

"He comes," Jasper whispered.

A wild screech sounded, a howl which pierced stone and flesh as if both were no more substantial than paper.

"He is here," Croman proclaimed in hushed tones. "Your orders, my lord?"

"He is to leave this place, to fly east over the farmlands, beyond the Weirdlands, beyond Grenitch Wood, across the Guardian Mountains to the manor house of the wizard Greyhorn two leagues west of the Hartford town of Alicon. There, ignoring all barriers, he is to take possession of the sorcerer Greyhorn, to clutch the living wizard in his talons and return here with him at once. Now, send him on his errand."