Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

"It must have been something pretty bad, Timura, Ersen said. It'll probably be all over the University before the day is over."

Safar grimaced. Let me know when you find out, he said. And I pray to the gods that whatever I did was worth it."

With that he strolled away, Ersen's bray echoing after him"Haw Haw Haw."

When it was safe Safar whispered to Gundara, Was he the one?"

"How could anyone miss it? the Favorite replied. I swear, when the gods made humans they must have run short of intellect to stuff into your skulls."

Safar had no grounds to disagree at the moment, so he continued on in silence, taking a corridor that led away from the kitchens and stank of sewers. The tunnel finally spilled into an immense room pocked with great pits. The sewer pipes emptied into those pits and Safar thought the odor was rich enough to give a starving pig convulsions.

As he entered the room he saw a group of acolytes tending to a pit on the far side. They dumped big jars of oil into it, someone threw in a flaming brand and then they all jumped back as red and yellow flames towered up with a whoosh. Clouds of sewer smoke followed the flames, billowing out over the acolytes who cursed and choked on the filthy air.

The smoke was thinning as Safar came close and one of the acolytes saw him. He shouted something at the others, then ambled forward to meet Safar.

"That's Olari, Safar whispered to Gundara. The one I have business with."

"I can't say if he's entirely safe, Gundara answered. Only you can judge that. But I can say thishe isn't a spy."

Safar whispered thanks to a few gods for this answer, hedged though it was, and made a hurried prayer to a few others to help him with his plan.

Olari was the second son of the richest man in Walaria. As such he would not inherit command of the family fortunes and so some other worthy occupation had to be found for him. His magical talent was as small as Ersen'sso small that if he had been an ordinary youth he would never have been permitted into the school of wizardry. Everyone knew this, including Olari's father. It was assumed Olari would enter the administrative side of the business of magic, where canniness and family contacts were much more important than sorcerous ability. Safar did not underestimate him because of this. He knew that was the same road Umurhan had taken to power. Olari's reputation was as controversial as Ersen's. Except where Ersen presented himself as a jester and the laziest of all the lazy students, Olari was a rebel.

He was one of the student ringleaders who constantly and loudly challenged the status quo in Walaria. Safar had spent many an evening at the Foolsmire listening to Olari and his band of committed brothers debate the great issues of the day, fueled by copious quantities of strong spirits. They deplored the oppression of the common man, which Safar thought humorous since the only common men Olari and his rich friends knew were the slaves who waited on them and the tradesmen who catered to their exclusive tastes. Olari and the others roundly denounced the heavy taxes Didima demanded and the corruption of a system where bribery was the rule, not the exception. They condemned the city's leaders as old men, cowardly men, greedy men, who lacked all capacity to understand the new ideas and grand reforms offered by their far-seeing children.

Olari and his companions had tried to recruit Safar into their company. He was popular with all the other acolytes and if he joined them it would do much to strengthen their appeal with the university's intellectuals. Safar had always diplomatically refused, saying he wasn't a citizen of Walaria, nor did he intend to remain here when his studies were completed. He had no stake in Walaria, he said, and it would be wrong of him to take sides. Actually Safar considered the young rebels ideals empty. Except for Olari, he thought their protests and petty conspiracies nothing more than spoiled children defying their parents. He excepted Olari because he thought it entirely possible the young nobleman was mapping out a shortcut to power. But the main reason he refused was that Olari and the other ringleaders were protected by their noble births. They were coddled by their families, who correctly said they'd soon grow out of this hot-headed stage. So it took no courage at all for them to express their views at the top of their lungs. Someone like Safar, however, would quickly find himself being hauled before Kalasariz as a traitor. In the past that fate had been only a strong probability. But now that Safar had actually met Kalasariz he knew it as a fact.

Another blast of fire and smoke thundered from a sewer pit, adding an odd drum beat of drama to the moment when Safar and Olari took the last few steps that closed the gap between them.

"I won't offer you a glad cry of welcome, Timura, he said, because you'd curse me for it."

"And no one would blame me if I beat you about the head and shoulders as well, Safar laughed.

"Soon as I saw you, Olari said, I thoughtI'll be poached in shit sauce, if it isn't Safar Timura! The only time he's put on a work detail is when the whole class is being punished."

Safar shrugged. It's my country upbringing that saves me, he said. I'm good at ducking for cover and not getting caught."

"And did you? Ersen asked. Get caught, I mean. And what in the hells for?"

"Ersen asked the same thing, Safar said. He seemed as surprised as you to see me here."

"And what did you tell him? Olari asked.

"I lied, Safar answered, and said I was here to help you burn the shitters. And that whatever it was I did to deserve it I'd forgotten because I was drunk."

Olari cocked his head, a small smile playing on his lips, considering what Safar's statement meant. Tall and darkly handsome, with deep brooding eyes offset by a dazzling white smile that charmed all who knew him, he was every inch a patrician, even in work robes and daubed with smoke and filth.

After a moment he nodded in satisfaction, smile spreading wider. Come into my office, and we'll talk."

He gave Safar a follow me gesture and led him to a rubbish heap that hid a small cavelike opening in the wall. Olari dropped to his knees and crawled into it, Safar close behind. After a few feet the hole broadened into a small room. Olari lit a candle, revealing that the room was decorated with old mattresses and blankets. There were makeshift shelves bolted to the wall filled with sealed jars of food.

Olari lit a few more candles and a little smoke pot of incense to cover the sewer smell. Then he sank onto one of the mattresses and laid back, hands behind his head.

"What do you think of my office? he asked.

"Considering the place it's in, Safar said, I'm impressed."

"We take turns hiding out here, Olari said. One group keeps watch while the other sleeps, or eats and even… he reached to a low shelf, grabbed a stoppered jar and tossed it to Safar… drinks."

"This is starting to take on the air of a palace, Safar said as he uncorked the jar. He took a long drink of what turned out to be a fine wine, then passed the jar to Olari.

The youth sat up and raised the jar, saying, Here's to lies. And he drank.

As he passed the jar back to Safar he said, I'm guessing that you're here because you've reconsidered my offer."

"That I have, Safar said. I've decided to take you up on it."

"And why is that, my friend? Olari asked. What has suddenly made you see the light and decide to join our cause?"

"To be absolutely honest, Safar said, I have no intention of joining anyone's cause. Although I'm risking the loss of your good opinion of me, I'll tell you straight out, OlariI have a sudden need for a large sum of money. Call it a family emergency, if you will."

"There's no shame in that, Olari said. Although I'd prefer it was your heart that guided you to me, not your purse."