Lyndon Hardy - Riddle of the Seven Realms

"And although these others can coexist side by side with no threat from one to another, our own involvements are much more tightly bound. Whenever one of us leaves our realm to sojourn elsewhere, it must be as the master of the one who has summoned or else as his slave.

"But you know all of this quite well, my prince. None less than you organized the great plan to conquer the entire realm of men and bend it to your will but a tick in time ago. Had it not been for the one that the mortals call the archimage-"

Elezar's hands clutched spasmodically and Astron veered back to his original course. The prince did not like to be reminded of his defeat by a mere human. "The next is the rule of three," Astron rushed. "Or as it is commonly cast-thrice spoken, once fulfilled. The proper chants intoned three times over give men the power of sorcery and illusion to cloud the minds of one another.

"The maxim of persistence is the fourth. As the magicians in the guilds like to state it-perfection is eternal. If certain precise rituals are enacted flawlessly, then items can be produced that will last as long as the life of any demon.

"The fifth is the doctrine of signatures-the attributes without mirror the powers within. Based upon closely guarded secret formulas, those that men call alchemists brew strange concoctions that sometimes produce remarkable results. Far more powerful would be the craft if chance did not play a role in every successful brewing."

Astron again glanced at Elezar's hands but saw no change. Somehow the listing of the laws of magic was bound up in whatever was vexing the prince.

"The last two are the principles of sympathy and contagion," Astron hurried to finish. "The thaumaturges who use them speak of 'like producing like' and 'once together, always together,' but sympathy and contagion are what they mean. By taking a small part of a whole and exercising it in a simulation, the rest of the bulk is forced to act correspondingly. It is the craft by which men build their walls and transport heavy burdens."

"My prince," a deep voice suddenly rumbled from one of the rotunda entrances, "the signal lights have been blinking. Gaspar with his retinue is now on his way. There are twenty-two djinns of lightning and lesser devils as well."

On the rim of the rotunda, the entrance was darkened by the massive form of a colossal djinn, his folded wing-tips scraping the archway as he entered. Powerful black muscles rippled across his chest as he moved. Slitted eyes of piercing yellow glowed in a face of darkest jet.

"What is your command, my prince?" the djinn asked. "Though we are fewer, my clutch brothers and I can make his landing one that will cost."

Elezar turned to answer, "No, no, Delithan. To meet Gaspar on his own terms is surely a strategy of defeat. Invite him in unchallenged. We will use the time to our advantage."

"A djinn lives to fight, my prince," Delithan rumbled. "He exists only to rip matter asunder and drink deeply of its dying shrieks. If that is denied, there is little that restrains surrender to the great monotony."

"There will be many more battles in the epochs to come, Delithan," Elezar said. "Do not deny yourself the opportunity to engage in them by a miscalculation now. Push aside thoughts of the brooding doom. As you have in the past, trust in your prince."

"An epoch ago, none could call himself master of my lord," Delithan said. "But now there is indeed one who can so claim and he is only a man. Perhaps Gaspar too is mightier and the coming struggle is the last."

With a sharp crack, a spark of blue light suddenly arched from Elezar's left thumb to his forefinger. His arm swung out from his body in the direction of Delithan, a mask of anger etching the fine lines of his face. The huge djinn brought an arm up over his eyes. The pale outline of a shield began to materialize in front of his chest.

For a moment the two demons stood frozen, the crackle of ionization covering any words that they might have spoken. Then, as quickly as it had sprouted, the arc of energy in Elezar's hand winked out of existence. His face softened. He rotated his palms upward in Delithan's direction.

"Gaspar has grown so bold as to attack me in what all the princes acknowledge as my strength," Elezar said softly, his sudden outburst back under control. "It is a foolish boldness for him to do so and I will not reply in kind. There may yet be the thrill of battle for you against his djinns of lightning, Delithan, but as long as I am your prince, it will be a time of my own choosing. Now take your clutch brethren into the void as I have commanded and escort him here without incident."

Delithan's shield disappeared before it completely formed. He hesitated a moment and then dipped his head in acquiescence. Stooping to clear the archway, he turned back the way he had come. "A djinn lives to fight," he rumbled as he left.

"Gaspar," Astron blurted as Elezar turned back to face him. "Gaspar of the lightning djinns. Though his numbers are large and mighty, he would not dare to challenge you without due cause. None of the other princes would permit it. They would rally to your aid and against all he has no chance."

"His attack is not one of djinn against djinn," Elezar said. "Instead it was something quite unexpected, although, of course, I showed no surprise." Elezar paused. His eyes flared. "He has posed a riddle, cataloguer, a riddle to test the prince most noted for cunning of all those who rule.

"The stakes are familiar, the ones I have accepted from demons with far keener minds. If I answer correctly, then Gaspar and all who follow him are mine to do with what I will. If not, then I and my domain are his."

"A riddle?" Astron said. "Then surely there is no threat at all. The likes of Gaspar could not formulate a puzzle that would long give pause to one such as you, my prince. And if you were-were too busy to answer yourself, then many in your domain would have sufficient wit to formulate the solution."

Elezar ignored Astron's words. "You were telling me of the laws that govern the realm of men. What of the metalaws which lie behind them?"

"Of the three of them I know far less," Astron said. He felt his stembrain again begin to stir. Elezar was moving on to things with which he was far less familiar.

"Three of them," Elezar repeated. "So you state that there are ten laws rather than seven?"

"No, the three metalaws are quite different from the rest," Astron said. "Each of the other realms, that of men, the skyskirr, the fey, and the others, is governed by seven laws of magic out of infinitely many. The metalaws govern which ones are active and how they are changed."

Elezar looked over Astron's head to the far side of the rotunda. Translucent membranes flicked down over his eyes to remove external distractions as he defocused in thought. "The metalaws were known by some of the most ancient princes," he said. "Even if we could not use them ourselves, we understood their manipulations well. And in the realm of the skyskirr, they are all-important; compared to them, the laws themselves pale into insignificance."

Elezar stared back at Astron. "But in the realm of men, for epochs none realized that such things as metalaws existed. For the mortals, there were only the seven laws of magic as you have stated them, constant and unfailing. Humankind spent their brief lives entirely ignorant of the greater powers that slumbered all about them."

The prince paused. "So you see, it is indeed possible. Gaspar's riddle might be a valid question, one with a definite answer. Ah, for the answer." Elezar looked away. "The answer that would give me victory over yet another who thinks his power greater than mine."

The prince ran his slender tongue over his lower lip, apparently savoring an imagined victory. He smiled and waved to the hovering imps for another display. But as the complex pattern formed. Elezar shook his head and motioned them to return to stillness. He looked back at Astron. "But I have no ready reply, cataloguer," he said. The words were forced and came with difficulty. "I stall for more time and Gaspar guesses at my weakness. He even taunts me with clues, so sure is he that I will fail."