Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

Justice was swift. There was no trial, nor were any of the condemned present when a High Judge sentenced them to death. The mass execution was set for the following daywhich happened to be Founder's Day. Town criers went through the city, shouting the news of the executions and posting notices listing the names of the condemned and their crimes.

At the top of the list was the name of the ringleaderone Safar Timura, foreigner.

At the bottom of the list was the name of one of his dupesOlari, citizen.

"Apparently I misjudged my family's influence, Olari said.

Safar wrung out the rag, freshened it from the pail of cold water and wiped the blood from Olari's face. He had been beaten so badly his head was swollen to half again its size.

"You always were a master of understatement, Safar said.

Other than the bruises he'd suffered when he was captured, Safar was unscathed. For some reason he hadn't been tortured and his confession"an unsigned document with Kalasariz sealhad been good enough for the High Judge.

"The real pity of it is, Olari said, I'm not even getting any credit. I'm to go down in Walarian history as a mere minion."

"And I the minion in chief, Safar said. On the whole I'd rather pass on the honor. But Kalasariz was quite insistent. You know how persuasive he is."

"My father most likely paid a handsome sum to have me listed as a dupe of your devilish tongue, Olari said. Protecting the family honor and all that. Stupid, I guess, is better than king of the traitors."

The two young men were in the company of six other youths, all suffering from the ghastly work of the torturer. They were slumped in the center of the cell, barely able to chase away inquisitive insects and rats. All eight of them were to be beheaded by Tulaz, the master executioner. The others, crowded in nearby cells, would be parceled out in lots five or less to ten other executioners.

"There is one consolation, Olari said.

"What's that? Safar asked. I could use a bit of cheering up."

"I'm to go last, Olari said. Which means whether Tulaz succeeds or fails, I'll be remembered. If he strikes off my head with one blow, I'll be helping him break his record. If not, why I'll go down in the wagering books as the one who ended Tulaz remarkable streak."

Safar laughed. It was a bitter sound. I wish I could be there to see how it turns out, he said. Unfortunately, I go first."

Olari tried to laugh. A sharp pain in his ribs turned it to a low groan. When he'd recovered, he shook his head, saying, I always was"

His words were cut off by a coughing fit. Safar held him until it stopped. Then his companion spit blood into the pail. There was a plop as one of his teeth fell into the water.

He looked up at Safar, grinning a bloody grin.

"What I was trying to get out before nature so rudely interrupted me, Olari said, was that I've always been a lucky dog.

"And it looks like that luck is going to stick with me until the very end."

"You're too tense, the trainer complained as he kneaded the massive body stretched out before him. Can't get the kinks out less you relax."

"Slept like shit, Tulaz said. Don't know what's wrong with me. I al'ays sleep like a babe. Specially afore a work day. But it weren't like that last night. Kept dreamin about this little fiendish thing. Body like a man, face like a toad. Kept on sayin''Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

The trainer's brow knotted in worry. The executionsmoved to the main arena to handle the Founder's Day crowdswere less than an hour away. All his savings had been risked on the outcome.

"Bad luck, a dream like that, Tulaz went on. Got me all out of sorts, it did. Can't figure out what I done to bring it on."

"You purged yourself like I tole you? the trainer asked, pummeling Tulaz thick body.

The Master Executioner of Walaria snorted. 'Course. Filled five buckets, didn't I?"

"And you've been stickin to your diet?"

"Gruel and water'd wine, nothin more, Tulaz said. It's this big rush that's botherin me. I usually get some notice, you know? Couple of days at least to get into shape. Sides, I just broke me own record couple a days ago.

"Seven heads takes a lot out of a man, which most people don't appreciate. They just come and see me lop em off. Miss all the fine points. Don't know how hard I works to keep a good form. I ain't recovered from the seven, yet. Now I gotta go for eight, afore I'm even ready."

"Don't think about it, the trainer advised. It's just one more day like any other. Keep that in your noggin and it'll work out fine."

"Sure, Tulaz said. That's the trick. Just another day. Nothin special about it."

The trainer poured scented oil on Tulaz and started working it in. And each head, too, he said. Look at em the same way. Don't count how many you gots to go. One or eight, what's the difference? They all gotta come off one at a time. Nothin special about that."

"Yeah, Tulaz said. That's the only way they goone at a time. Thanks. I'm feelin much better already."

The trainer chuckled and said thanks weren't necessary. He finished his task, covered Tulaz with heavy towels and advised him to take a nap.

"I'll call you in plenty of time, he said.

He crept out of the training room, but just before he exited he looked back at Tulaz. The giant executioner was lying face up, a brawny arm shielding his eyes.

And he was muttering to himself: Shut up, shut up, shut up. Wonder what he meant?"

For the first time in Tulaz long and illustrious career he was obviously distracted and suffering from a decided lack of confidence. The trainer left the room, wondering where he could get some money quick to lay off his bets.

The crowd roared. Safar was led out first, followed by Olari and six others, all manacled and chained together. Forty two heads had already been severed and the crowd was bored by the spotty performances of the executioners. But this was the main event: Tulaz, the Master Executioner of Walaria, was going for an eighth and record head.

Safar was nearly blinded by the bright morning sun. He tried to shield his face, but his arms were brought up short by a chain linked to a thick iron waist band. A guard cursed and prodded him along with a spear butt.

When his vision cleared Safar could see that he was being taken to a large, hastily erected execution platform in the center of the arena. It had been thrown up next to the dignitaries stand, where King Didima, Umurhan, and Kalasariz sat in pillowed and canopied comfort.

When Kalasariz announced the results of the roundup, Didima had decided to make the mass executions part of the Founder's Day ceremonies. The king prided himself on making quick, tough decisions, even if others believed them too daring or tradition-breaking. He thought the executions would whet the appetites of his citizens for the festivities that would follow.

"It will bring us all together at a special time, he told Umurhan and Kalasariz. Heal the discord among our citizens."

Umurhan, a usually cautious man, had agreed without argument. Although he didn't state his reasons, the High Priest of Walaria had been troubled of late that his annual display of sorcery wasn't being greeted with the sort of respectful enthusiasm and awe it deserved. Fifty severed heads would go long way to warming up the crowd.

Kalasariz also thought it was an excellent idea, although he too chose not to mention them to his two comrades. For his purposes it was always better to get political executions out of the way as fast as possiblebefore families and friends and loved ones had time to work up a good, lasting grievance. Swift executions put the fear of the gods in them, quelling vengeful thoughts.