Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

"That's the spirit, lad! Biner cried. To the Hells with them all!

"And damn everything but the Circus."

That night after the final show, the troupe ate and retired to tents set up on the ground. The Cloudship, Safar discovered, couldn't be used for that purpose when a show was going on. He'd been so overwhelmed by all the new experiences he hadn't noticed a good portion of the Cloudship's body was disassembled and turned into parts for the circus, such as the stands the audiences sat in.

He was heading off to sleep in the roustabout's tent when Methydia emerged from a small, gaily-decorated pavilion and beckoned him.

"I think we need to have a little talk, my sweet, she said, gesturing for him to enter.

The pavilion, lit by oil lamps, was spread with thick carpets. Pillows were piled onto trunks to make comfortable chairs. A curtained hammock was strung at the back for a bed.

Methydia bade Safar to sit and poured him a little wine. She raised her glass in a toast, intoning, May the winds be gentle, the stars be bright. May the crew be skilled, the landing light. And they drank.

After a moment, Methydia said, I heard about your little trick with the lucky coin. Apparently you made a little girl and her mother very happy."

Safar became uneasy. Although Methydia was smiling and her words were gentle, he could see from the look in her eye the purpose of this visit had nothing to do with compliments. It was time to bare his soul.

"I haven't told you everything about me, Safar confessed.

"If you mean that you left out the small part about being a wizard, Methydia said with exaggerated mildness, I expect you're right."

"Only a student wizard, Safar hastened to add.

Methydia curled a lip. I see. Only a student. Well, that certainly makes me feel much better."

"I'm sorry, Safar said, feeling as socially clumsy as Arlain. I didn't mean to deceive you."

"Oh, you didn't deceive me, Methydia said. I sensed you had certain powers right off. And after your little confession about being hunted by powerful men, I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me the rest. But I've never been known for my patience. So I'm asking you to tell me now."

"I was really deceiving myself, more than anything, Safar said. Magic has brought me nothing but grief. And after what happened in WalariaI suppose I just wanted a rest. To live normally for a while."

"There was a girl, Methydia said. Nerisa, I believe? She saw Safar's look of surprise and explained, You babbled quite a bit while you were unconscious. Her name was mentioned more than most. A young lover, I presume?"

Safar shook his head. No, she was just a child. A street urchin who became my friend. She died saving my life."

Methydia drank a little of her wine, eyeing him across the rim. Then, From the way you railed in your sleep, I thought something tragic had happened to her."

"I only wish it could have been Nerisa instead of me you found in the desert, Safar said.

"Some would say you ought to take comfort in the gods, Methydia said. Pray that they had their reasons for choosing one over the other. Personally, I've never found that sort of thing much help. But you might."

Safar shook his head. No."

Methydia drew a small vial out of her sleeve. Give me your wine, she said.

Puzzled, he complied. She poured the contents of the vial into his glass and stirred it with a long, graceful finger.

She handed him the glass. Drink it, she commanded.

"What is it? Safar asked.

"Oh, just a little potion my old granny taught me how to make, she said. It will help heal the wounds caused by your friend's death."

Safar hesitated. Methydia pushed the glass to his lips. It won't make you forget Nerisa, my sweet, she said softly. It will just make everything seem long ago. And therefore easier to bear."

Safar drank. The potion was tasteless, but when it hit his belly it frothed up into heady fumes that seemed to rise along the back of his spine. He felt his muscles relax, then his tight-strung nerves.

He closed his eyes and saw Nerisa's face with its twisted little grin.

The face filled his mind's eye for a moment, then recededfloating away, deep into darkness, until it was a small image.

Then he put her away in a special chest of memories where the sweet mingled with the bitter.

An unseasonable cold snap ended their stay at Deming and they sailed south to warmer climes, storms and blustery winds at their back.

Safar knew from first-hand experience the storms were from out of the seas beyond Caspan. They came regularlyalthough usually not this earlyracing across the northern lands, bursting over the Gods Divide, then rolling down the southern slopes of the Bride's gown to sweep across the wide plains to the mountains beyond Jaspar.

Although the Cloudship was untroubled by the stormsalways staying just ahead of the frontal windsit was moving much faster than before, covering as much as two hundred miles in a day.

With every mile Safar was flung farther from Kyrania and soon, like Nerisa's image, all thoughts of home receded into the background. He was overcome by a marvelous feeling of freedom. They sailed across seas of crystal air, over great fluffy fields of clouds, through flocks of bright-feathered birds and under starry skies where the moon was so close it seemed you only had to turn the ship's wheel and you could fly to it.

They sailed on a loose schedule Methydia kept in her head. Day would blend into delightful day, then she'd suddenly issue orders and they'd prepare to land at a town or village where there was always a crowd to fill the ship's larder and the troupe's purses.

After that first night in Deming Methydia evidently came to some sort of decision and began to teach him her own brand of magic. Her training mocked all the forms and conventions of Umurhan's School of Sorcery. In Methydia's view presentation was more important than the spell itself.

"I suppose it's true that magic is a science, she told Safar one day. There are rules and the scholars tell us there are reasons for those rules."

As she spoke Methydia was sorting through a large wardrobe chest looking for a suitable costume for Safar.

"Personally, she said, the whys and wherefores never interested me. I'm an artist. I don't care why something happens. Only the effect it has on my art."

Methydia held up a dark blue shirt with a plunging neckline and floppy sleeves. It was decorated like a starry night, silvery constellations swirling in the dim light of her cabin's oil lamps.

"This is perfect, she murmured. It'll bring out the blue of your eyes. Methydia set the shirt aside and continued rummaging.

She said, I created a circus to display my art. I didn't have the idea until my lovers made the Cloudship possible. I was an actress, then. Billed as a woman of beauty and mystery. I kept my witchery locked in a box, like my makeup. I only used it to cure a blemish, trouble a rival or heighten my performance by wresting a sob from the audience.

"But soon as I saw the Cloudship the idea came to me'Methydia's Flying Circus of Miracles. My life as an actressand hidden witchsuddenly seemed tawdry. Meaningless. Unfulfilling."

Methydia paused, holding up a pair of breeches that were a near match to the shirt. She studied it, then wrinkled her nose. Too too much, she muttered, tossing the breeches back into the chest and continuing her search.

"Where was I? she asked, then"Oh, yes. My life as unfulfilled actress. Her face turned serious, gestures dramatic. I wanted more, she said, and yes, I admit it, the more was applause. I'm a self-centered bitch, but then what true artist isn't? The circus gave my art purpose. And in that purpose I found my heart. That is the gift I give to my audience now… She laid a light hand on her breast. My heart."