David Grace - The Accidental Magician

"Die!"

"It is the Gogols," Castor explained. "They found out that you are here. Hazar has ringed the tumbles with guards and sent Mara in to bring you out without a fight. The female is supposed to inject you with a drug which will put you to sleep. Then, with you and the power of your ring out of the way, she was to call for the Fanist to surrender."

"But how did they find us?"

"Obron, the leader of my people. She saw me bring you here. In order to protect my kinsmen from retribution she reported your presence. The shame is mine. As punishment I will share your fate."

"Is there another way out?" Chom asked.

"In an Ajaj's quarters? None that any of you could fit through," Castor said, nodding toward the tunnel. "That is the only way."

"Could we fight our way out?"

"Against one or two guards perhaps, but not the army that Hazar has poised-at least thirty of his soldiers. You might conquer a few of them, but you would never escape alive."

"What can we do? There must be some solution, some alternative, something."

"I see two choices," Chom announced. "Surrender, or defeat as many of them as possible before we are killed."

"Killed!"

"It's all right, Grantin," Mara said, throwing her arms around him and stifling her sobs. "I can't let you walk out there alone. I will die with you."

"Die? Are you crazy? I have no intention of dying over a stupid piece of jewelry. You can do what you want, but I'm going to go out there and let them take the ring. Chom, are you coming with me?"

"It seems I have little alternative," the Fanist responded evenly. "Who goes first?"

For long moments the four figures seemed rooted to Castor's granite floor. At last Mara slipped forward, bent over, and entered the tunnel.

From behind granite boulders, abutments, and tip-sided slabs Hazar's guards peered through the darkness and waited for the signal to attack. Several of the men carried cocked crossbows, bolt tips swinging aimlessly back and forth across the center of the tumbles. These were the best weapons the common soldier possessed.

From time to time gunpowder had been formulated and pistols reinvented, but each experiment ended in disaster. The chemical energy released by an explosion eventually was tapped by the combatants and incorporated, deliberately or accidentally, into fearfully dangerous spells. Time and again experimenters were horrified to see their guns explode. The last such disastrous experiment had taken place in Cicero only twenty years before, an object lesson in terror which would, no doubt, delay similar innovation for another twenty or thirty years hence.

It was one of the crossbowmen, one Huber by name, who first saw Mara emerge from Castor's tunnel. Huber steadied his crossbow and strained to discern the target more clearly.

A glowpod flickered to life in Mara's hand, and she swung it carefully over her head in the all-clear signal. Hazar's men cautiously advanced while Mara, then Grantin and the rest, picked their way down the rock-strewn slope. A semicircle of bowmen pocketed the prisoners at the bottom of the tumbles. Two members of the household guard, specially trained as hexmen, quickly released their spells of nullification, restraint, and deactivation, workmanlike incantations which, for a short while at least, would inhibit even powerful wizards from launching a magical counterattack. The group now physically and psychically secure, the captain of the guards signaled that Hazar might approach.

The Gogol wizard advanced briskly, his red-and-black gown streaming behind him. His feet picked their way unerringly over the rock-strewn sand at the base of the tumbles.

"You have restrained them?" he asked the hexmen.

"Indeed, my lord, they made no struggle."

"You did well, Mara, in arranging their capture. I seem to recall, however, that the plan called for this one"- Hazar jerked his thumb at Grantin-"to be drugged. But no matter. He is here and you have saved us having to carry him down the slope. You are Grantin of Alicon, I presume?" Hazar asked the young man politely. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hazar, Lord of the Gogols and Master of the Gate of Dread. And this being who accompanies you?"

"My human name is Chom."

"Both travelers from a far land. Allow me to show you our Gogol hospitality. I think you will find your quarters in Cicero somewhat different from those here in the Ajaj camp-and while I'm on that subject, there is business that remains unfinished." Hazar turned to the captain of the guard and issued a sharp command: "Bring me Obron, the leader of the Grays."

The soldier motioned to two of his underlings. A moment later Obron was escorted forward to Hazar's side.

"These two were given shelter in your city," Hazar began. "As you know very well, no unauthorized persons are permitted in our realm. Clearly your people are responsible. Why should I not make them pay?"

"They had nothing to do with it, my lord. The presence of these travelers was reported to your guards."

"Perhaps that is all part of a clever scheme to try and avoid the punishment which is due you. Very well, I will test your sincerity. You saw these people captured by my men?"

Obron silently nodded her assent.

"From whose lodgings did they emerge?"

"My lord, it is dark and difficult to tell from which-"

"-Answer me or all will suffer the penalty of treason!"

Obron hesitated a moment then whispered: "Castor's."

Hazar whipped around and pointed a long, bony finger at the Gray who stood to Mara's right. "Aren't you Castor the troublemaker? Isn't that your name?"

"I am Castor and proud of it. Proud not to be a sheep like my fellows, or a traitor like Obron. Proud to oppose your evil madness. I am Castor your enemy. Kill me now if you will and have done with it."

The guards were shocked into silence by the Gray's incredible outburst. After a moment the stunned quiet was broken by Hazar's laughter.

"Now I have seen everything," the Gogol exclaimed, "the strangest of all possible sights, a Gray with courage. Don't be so hasty for the end. It would be a bad omen for me to precipitately eliminate such a rarity as yourself. No, I think I will take my own good time in finishing you. Perhaps we will put your courage to the test, but not tonight. Captain, bring them all to my quarters."

"My lord, if you need me no longer…"

"All of them, guard, the girl included."

The soldiers formed the prisoners into a line and, flanking them, marched the group up the winding trail back to the Gate of Dread.

In a few minutes Grantin, Chom, Castor, and Mara were ushered into Hazar's parlor. Already present in the small chamber were Hazar and his three over-deacons. At the far left-hand comer of the room wine-colored drapes billowed.

Mara noticed that the furniture had been hastily rearranged, the couch and chairs pushed back to provide an open area in the center where she and the prisoners now stood. In front of them, seated on the settee with his back to the outer wall, Hazar eyed the four critically. Huddled together to the right of the rippling drapes crouched Croman, Jasper, and Wax. Occasionally one of the over-deacons flicked a glance over his shoulder toward the window, as if nervously expecting the imminent appearance of another guest. Hazar concentrated his attention upon the prisoners. He commenced his interrogation with Grantin.

"Well, Master Grantin, so you are here at last. You have led us a merry chase. You know, of course, your uncle Greyhorn is quite displeased with you. No, no, you need not reply. His wishes are now of minor importance at best. More to the point, however, you have inconvenienced me. Do you have any idea of the trouble you have caused?"

Grantin shook his head.