Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

Safar nodded, then leaned closer. I've run across a name, he said, low. He gestured in the direction of the book shop. It's repeated many times in some of your oldest scrolls. Scholars refer to an ancient they call Lord Asper. A great magician and philosopher. He measured the world and also the distance from Esmir to the moon. He made many predictions that came true, including the rise of Alisarrian and the collapse of his empire."

Katal looked interested. I've never heard of such a man, he said.

"I don't think Asper was a man, Safar answered.

"What else could he be?"

"A demon, Safar answered.

Katal was so startled he nearly came to his feet. A demon? he cried. What madness is this? The demons have nothing to teach us but evil! I don't care how wise this Asper was, he was most certainly wicked. All demons are. That's why there's a barrier between our species. The curse of the Forbidden Desert."

"Oh, that, Safar said. It's nothing."

"How can you call the greatest spell ever cast in history nothing? Katal said, aghast. The finest mindsand, yes, some were demon minds,composed that spell. It's unbreakable."

Safar shrugged. Actually, I suspect it can be broken quite easily, he said. I really wasn't looking for the details, but I do know the curse is based on Asper's work. He had many enemies, many rivals, and to protect his most powerful magic it's said he created a spell of complexity. It made the most simple bit of sorcery appear so tangled and difficult that it would confound even the greatest wizard. If I wanted to break the curse I'd attack the spell of complexity, not the curse itself. I don't think that would take much effort to solve. I'm sure I'd find the key if I could lay my hands on one of his books. Which is exactly what I was looking for when Umurhan surprised me."

"Would you really do such a thing, Safar? Katal asked, shocked. Would you really try to lift the curse?"

"Of course not, Safar said, to Katal's vast relief. What purpose would that serve, except to endanger us all? I have no greater opinion of demons than you."

As he'd promised Coralean, Safar had never mentioned his own experience with demons to anyone, even Katal. So he didn't add he had even more reason to fear the creatures than the old book seller could imagine. And it had occurred to him more than once that despite Coralean's rationalizations, the demon raiders might have found a way to cross the Forbidden Desert. If so, it was his frequent prayer the knowledge had died with them in the avalanche.

He said nothing of this to Katal. Instead, he said, I'm only interested in what Asper had to say about Hadin. I think it goes to the origins of our world. And all of us. Humans and demons alike."

"This is all very intriguing, Safar, Katal said. But merely for intellectual discussion among, I might add, the most select few. For it's dangerous talk. Please, for your sake and your family's sake, let it go. Forget Asper. Forget Hadin. Study hard and pass the exam. Umurhan will relent, I'm sure of it. You are capable of great things, my young friend. Don't stumble now. Look ahead to the future."

"I am, Katal, Safar said passionately. Can't you see it? In my vision… he let the rest trail off. He'd been over this ground with Katal many times. I never wanted to come to Walaria in the first place, he said. My family insisted I take advantage of Coralean's generous offer. Safar had told various vague tales of why the caravan master felt beholden to him. Katal, realizing it was a sensitive area, had always avoided pressing him for the details. Old Gubadan wept when I first refused. It was as if I were robbing him of his pride."

"I can see that, Katal said. You were his prize student, after all. Not many young people like yourself come before a teacher, Safar. It's an experience to be treasured."

"Still, that's not what shook me from my resolve, Safar said. I love Kyrania. I never wanted to leave it. I loved my father's work. And yet I haven't touched a bit of wet clay in nearly three years. But I was haunted by the vision of Hadin. I couldn't sleep. I could barely eat. The more I thought about it, the more ignorant I felt. And the only way to relieve that was to go to the university and study. So it was Hadin that drove me from my valley, Katal. And Hadin that drives me now."

Safar's blue eyes were alight with the holy zeal of the very young. Katal sighed to himself, only dimly remembering his own days of such single-mindedness. It seemed likely to him, however, that Safar's tale was much more complex than the one he told. There were other forces at work, here. A bitter experience. Perhaps even a tragedy. Could it be a woman? Unlikely. Safar was much too young.

He was forming the words for a new plea of caution when loud voices and the sound of running feet interrupted.

The both looked up to see a small figure in bare feet and raggedy clothes sprinting down the alley towards them.

"What's wrong, Nerisa? Safar cried as she approached.

Then he heard voices just beyond the alley mouth shouting, Stop thief! Stop thief!"

Nerisa ran past him and shot up the fig tree like a bolt fired from a bow, disappearing into the thick foliage.

A moment later the fat stallkeep, trailed by several hard-looking men, lumbered into view. They slowed, panting heavily.

"Where is he? the stallkeep demanded when he'd reached them. Where'd he go?"

"Where did who go, sir? Katal asked, face a mask of surprised innocence.

"The thief, one of the rough men said.

"He's a big brute of a lad, the stallkeep broke in. A real animal, I tell you. I don't mind saying I was in fear for my life when I caught him stealing from me."

"We've seen no one matching that description, Safar said. Have we, Katal?"

Katal made a face of grave concern. We certainly haven't. And we've been sitting here for hours."

"Let's check around, one of the rough men said. Maybe these two good citizens were dipping in the wine too deeply to notice."

"I assure you no one looking like the one you described has come this way, Katal said. But feel free to look all you like."

Nerisa gently parted a branch to peer at the scene below. While the rough men searched, Safar and Katal engaged the stallkeep in casual conversation to soothe suspicion.

The young thief was not pleased with herself. She'd let her emotions spoil her timing and then she'd reacted in a panic when things went wrong. The execution, to the dismay of many of the heaviest gamblers, had gone off without a hitch. Tulaz's reputation was intact. The adulteresses head was not. And the plaza crowd had gotten a good show. The victim had been as beautiful as advertised. And she'd wailed most entertainingly when the jailers stripped her, trying pitifully to hide her nakedness with chained hands. Tulaz had played the showman to the hilt, pretending to hesitate several times over the lovely curls bent beneath his blade. Then he'd whacked off her head with such ease that not even a blind fool could doubt the minuscule size of his stony executioner's heart.

But just before he'd struck, the woman had let out a mournful groan that had echoed across the hushed plaza. It was a groan of such anguish, hauled up from the darkest well of human misery, that Nerisa had been wrenched from her emotional moorings. For the first time in her life she'd burst into tears. An uncontrollable urge to leave that place of horrors, and leave it quickly, had overwhelmed her.

Then Tulaz's blade severed the woman's head. The crowd thundered its approval. Nerisa leaped off the wagon, landing with her face to the stall. The object she'd come for gleamed at her from the trays and instinct took over. She scooped it up, heard the stallkeep's alarmed howl of discovery, and dived blindly into the crowd.

"Thief! the stallkeep had cried.