Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

He'd been searching for it when he was discovered.

Safar crouched in the darkest of the library, a candle stub his only aid, as he hurriedly combed through cob-webbed scrolls and books with cracked bindingsearching for the strange, four-headed snake symbol he knew to be Asper's seal.

Then an oil lamp had flared into life behind him and he whirled to find Umurhan hovering over himeyes blazing like spear points fresh from the forge.

"What are you doing here, acolyte? he thundered.

Safar fumbled excuses"Forgive me, Master. I was worried about the exam and, I, uh… uh… I thought I, uh…"

"Are you claiming to be a cheat, Safar Timura? Umurhan roared. Is that your puny reason for violating my privacy?"

"Ye-es, Mas-ttter, ye-ye-yes, Safar stuttered.

"Then why are you among the forbidden books, acolyte? Umurhan shouted. He pointed down the narrow aisle to the front of the library. Why didn't I find your filthy, cheating personage up there? Why weren't you stealing your answers from writings that have not been condemned?"

Safar wanted to shout that no knowledge should be forbidden. And that, as a matter of fact, even the supposed innocent works in this library were denied to all but Umurhan. Instead, Safar pretended to panicwith Umurhan looming over him it wasn't hardbabbling that he was only trying to hide from the light and had come here by accident. He streamed forth such a mad babble of half-confessions and false apologies and pleas for mercy that Umurhan's suspicions were quieted.

"Silence, Umurhan shouted, cutting Safar off in mid babble. You do understand I could have you seized this moment and charged with heresy?"

"Yes, Master, Safar answered, humble as he could.

"The only reason I'm not going to do so is that I believe you are nothing more than a low cheat."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I'm sorry, Master. It won't happen again, Master."

"Oh, I know you won't do it again, Acolyte Timura. I will see to that. I will withhold my punishment just now. I want you to contemplate your sins while I consider your fate."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

"The only reason I'm not immediately expelling you… or worse, by the gods, because I could do much worse! You understand that, don't you acolyte."

"Yes, Master. I understand."

"The sole reason I don't condemn you on the spot is because of the respect I have for your mentor, Lord Muzine. For some reason I shall never fathom he has a certain regard for your future and well being."

"Yes, Master, Safar mumbled, knocking his head on the ground. But he knew that what Umurhan was really remembering was the lioness and her ghost.

Although Safar had never been called into Muzine's company, his allowance had been increased after the incident. It had been coldly announced by Muzine's major domo, who harshly cautioned him about ever mentioning the ceremony or the event. It was plain to him now Umurhan feared the incident would get out if Safar's crime became a public matter. Questions would be raised about the sin Muzine wanted expunged. And even greater questions would be asked about the quality of Umurhan's magic. How could such a great wizard allow something like that to happen? And worst of allperhaps Umurhan wasn't as powerful as he claimed.

Safar had been granted a reprieve, but he knew now it was a short reprieveand getting shorter every moment.

"Hsst! came Gundara's warning. Danger ahead!"

Safar stopped. Below him was the final bend in the stairwell. It spilled out into the deepest and least glamorous level of the university. It was a place of boiling kitchen pots, foul garbage bins and huge clay pipes running overhead that carried water in and sewage out. Safar listened closely and after a moment made out the sound of a cleaning brush being rubbed against stone.

He resumed his journey, but at a slower pace. When he rounded the bend he saw a young acolyte kneeling on the steps. There was a bucket of water beside him and a brush in his hands. He was making lazy, half-hearted swipes at the steps with the brushdoing little more than dribbling water on the begrimed stone. But soon as he sensed Safar's presence the lazy swipes were replaced with vigorous scrubbing. The young man looked up, brow furrowed deeply as if the job required great concentration. But when he saw Safar he relaxed. He sat back on his heels, a wide, insolent grin splitting his face.

"Oh, it's only you, Timura. Gave me a start there for a minute. Thought you might be that whoreson, Hunker. Sneaking down here to catch me taking a little break."

Hunker was the priest in charge of punishment details. Any student in trouble learned to hate him on sight. He assigned the filthiest jobs and drove the workers like the spavined ox of the meanest miller.

Safar snorted. That's me, Hunker, in the flesh. And I'm down here to set all you sinful bastards a good example. That's why I'm going to spend my entire day crouched over a shithole and setting it on fire. Love the smell of that stuff burning. Love to show all you lazy swine how a real wizard works."

The acolyte, whose name was Ersen, had the reputation of being the most indolent troublemaker in the university. Ersen was a constant, unruly presence on the punishment details. It was well know that the only reason he hadn't been expelled was because his father was an elder on King Didima's court. Despite his noble background, Ersen was popular with everyone. He took his punishment in good humor and always presented a sympathetic ear to his fellow miscreants. A sympathy many hoped would translate into protection for that miscreant through his influential father.

Ersen burst into laughtera loud donkey braying Haw-Haw-Haw that endeared him to every student, but was hated by the priestssince they were usually the object of his uncontrollable laughter.

"I would love to see that, Timura, he said after he'd recovered. Why, I'd trade my father's fortuneand throw in his flabby old balls as a bonusto see old Hunker down here burning the shitters."

Safar chortled. What about your own equipment? he said. Would you throw them in, as well?"

Ersen acted shocked. What, and disappoint all the whores in Walaria? Why, the whole city would be filled with females weeping if their little Ersen was denied them. Besides, my father doesn't have much use for his anymore. He already made me. And there's no way he can improve on that historic feat."

Safar rewarded the reply with more laughter. But the whole time he kept thinking of Gundara's warning. Was Ersen the source of the danger? On the surface it seemed ridiculous. He was the class jester, the instigator of the best practical jokes aimed at authority. It there was mischief, everyone knew instantly that Ersen would be at the bottom of it. How could he be an informer? Then he recalled the comet streaking across the House of the Jester and it dawned on Safar just how good a cover Ersen's behavior would be if he were a spy. Everyone spoke freely in his company because what was there to fear from someone who was always in trouble himself for mocking authority?

Cold realization knotted in Safar's gut. This was exactly the sort of subtle game Kalasariz would play. He looked at Ersen with new eyes and saw the twitch in his cheek, the nervous, preoccupied drumming of his fingers on the stepssmall leaks through his genial facade.

Safar sighed and stretched his arms. Well, it's nice to dream about Hunker taking my place on the punishment detail, he said. But that's not getting the shitters burned."

"What did you do to deserve that, Timura? Ersen asked. Set fire to Umurhan's beard, I hope."

Safar scratched his head. I don't think so, he said. The last thing I remember was getting drunk at the Foolsmire. Hunker jumped me when I showed up this morning. He screamed a lot, called me the usual names, and ordered me to report for shitter burning. But now that I think of it, he never did say what for."