Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

"I was a fool for even trying to find the answer, Safar said bitterly. What would it matter if I did? There's nothing a potter's boy from Kyrania could do about it."

Then he swore he'd always love her, always stay with her and he'd never return to the dull, heavy existence of earthbound mortals who stared up at the sky in wonder as the Cloudship sailed overhead.

Methydia kept her silence. It would do him no good to tell him what she thought. But she had to be certain Safar was prepared for whatever was in store for him.

She determined that in the time remaining to them she'd teach him everything she knew about magical guile and peoples artifice. She'd give him all the love she had in heremotions she'd kept locked away to better arm herself against the world. She'd bolster his confidence, free him as best she could from his own self-imposed restraints.

And when the time came she'd steel herself and make him confront his destiny.

The storms continued with barely a day between each new blow. The winds drove them onwardacross the plains of Jaspar.

They saw much misery in the land the Cloudship passed over. Ruined villages, stripped fields where great armies had passed. Even in the heaviest rains they saw thousands of refugees slogging along the roads, making their way to the gods knew where. They saw the aftermath of fighting; huge muddy fields littered with corpses of men and animals.

The sight made them all moody. Only the most necessary words were exchanged. Safar was moodiest of all, staring out over the bleak landscape before them. Then one day they crossed a low mountain range. And when they broke through the clouds the skies were sunny, the air brisk.

They were floating over a large, peaceful valley. The valley floor was a patchwork of bright green orchards interspersed with blue creeks, gaily-painted villages, bordered by shaded gardens. All looked healthy and prosperous and there was no sign of the troubles they'd encountered before.

A fresh wind pushed the Cloudship forward. At the far edge of the valley was a small city with pearly walls and graceful buildings rising up from behind them.

Safar leaned out over the rails to get a closer look. The sight brought a smile to his face.

"What is this place? he asked.

"The city of Sampitay, Methydia said. We've never played there before. But I've heard good things about it. An entertainer's paradise, I'm told."

Safar mused, dimly recalling Gubadan's geography lessons. Then he recognized the orchardswhite mulberry trees. Sampitay was well known for its fine silks and the royal yellow dye taken from the roots of the trees.

"Sampitay, Biner said. That's a lucky place. Now I'm sorry I cursed the gods so harshly for all that bad weather."

Safar turned and looked back at the mountains. Big banks of clouds, driven by a far off storm, were scudding across the sky after them. It was about time, he thought, that the winds of fate took a gentler turn.

Safar knew there was something wrong before the first performance.

The crowds greeting them were enthusiastic enough, as were the soldiers who directed them to the field outside the city gates. The roustabouts set the circus up in record time and the seats for the first show were sold out before the ticket booth was in place.

The good citizens of Sampitay were so hungry for entertainment they lined up, begging to be relieved of the price of admission, while the Cloudship was still unloading. Methydia's troupe was forced to give a hasty first performance, cutting the encores short so an impatient second audience could be admitted.

No art was required to please them. They roared laughter at the slightest clown antic, gasped in terror at the merest slip of an acrobat, moaned in suspense at Methydia's and Safar's slightest magical gesture.

Oddly enough the troupe was discontented.

"I could fart and get a laugh, Biner complained.

"I could whistle through my fangs and they'd be thrilled, Elgy said.

"They're tho eathy I want to thpit, Arlain said. And the godth know what happenth when I thpit!"

Green as he was, Safar felt a wrongness in the overly-wild applause he received when he cast the first purple-colored smoke pellet that began his performance. He sensed an hysterical edge to the crowd's huzzahs.

During his mind reading act he announced a maid named Syntha was to be wed soon and her love would always be true. The young woman in question shrieked such joy at this newswhich Safar had received courtesy of a big-eared roustaboutthe entire audience was reduced to tears.

"What's wrong with them? he asked Methydia between performances.

Methydia smiled thinly. She seemed distracted, applying her makeup with a heavy hand. Are you so accustomed to applause, she asked, that you've already begun to question it?"

"Come on, Safar said. I'm not the only one. Elgy said the last time he played before an audience like this it turned out his troupe had wandered into the middle of a plague."

"The fear of death, Methydia said, does have a way of exciting people's interest in life."

"Do you know something the rest of us don't? Safar asked, growing irritated.

"Only this, Methydia said, passing him a large ornate card with a distinctive seal of gold wax. We are to give a command performance tonight for Queen Arma and her royal consort."

Safar looked at the card, an honor at any other time, and said, Why is this bad news?"

"Because it was accompanied by a chest of silk, Methydia said. And that silk, according to the messenger who delivered it, is an advance payment on a week's worth of free performances for the queen's subjects."

"A morale booster? Safar asked.

"I'm talking about a dozen bolts of the finest Sampitayan silk, Methydia said.

Safar, who'd spent his life on a caravan route, had a good idea what that was worth. How much morale-boosting do they need? he said. And why?"

"I don't know, Methydia answered. The messenger was quite polite, but he worked hard to avoid answering my questions. It was as if he expected us to pack up and leave at the slightest hint of trouble. He went on for an hour about what a wonderful ruler Arma was, the excellent health of her children, the esteem all her subjects hold her in. And the soundness of her kingdom."

Safar winced. In Walaria he'd learned to read fear on the face of royal posture. Maybe we'd better go, he said.

"I've arrived at the same conclusion, Methydia said. I told the messenger we had pressing business elsewhere. And we couldn't stay longer than the week purchased by Her Majesty."

Safar, remembering the incident at Kyshaat, said, What if we slipped off tonight?"

"I've also considered that course, Methydia said. Much can happen in a week. But I don't think we dare cut our visit too short. We might bring down the wrath of Queen Arma by making a hasty exit. I think it'd be best if we gave the queen the command performance she asked for, then quietly loaded the circus back on the Cloudship. We can do without some of the sets. And make it look like we're unloading things while we're actually putting them aboard. Three nights, no more, and we'll be on our way."

"But the queen paid in advance, Safar pointed out. What about all that silk?"

"I'll leave it behind, Methydia said. It's bad money and I don't want any part of it."

As it turned out three days was too long. The circus overshot its luck the night of the command performance.

Knowing she was going to abandon Sampitay as soon as possible, Methydia roused the troupe to put on its best show ever.

Safar, drawing on his years of schooling in Walaria, had created a new kind of magical lighting. The circus tried out his ideas for the first time the night Queen Arma held court in the main tent.