Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

"You are probably cursing me and your fate right now, Trin said. This is good. It teaches you how you stand with me. I have better things to do than spend my days here in the damp and cold watching you dig up clay. If I had my way I'd empty your brains from your skull and join my mates in some spirited drinking."

"You're right, exalted one, Khadji said. He'd recovered and was rising, full bucket in hand. And I thank you for the reminder of what a fortunate person I am.

"Why, what would become of me and family if your superiors weren't so wise? What clever fiends they are. I've often remarked on it to Myrna, my wife.

"Good Timura pottery equals much gold on the marketplace. Gold your king requires to fight his wars."

Trin snorted. A pot's a pot, as far as I'm concerned, he said. You put something in it. And you empty it out. I used to pinch them out by the dozen when I was young. Some broke when they were fired. Some didn't. Who cares? The clay costs nothing. And the fire only wants a little fuel."

"Who am I to quarrel with such an expert on pottery? Khadji said.

"No one, Trin agreed. I was a potter before I was a soldier. I know good work when I see it."

He looked at the bucket, then dug a tentative claw into its contents. A little gritty, isn't it? he said.

"All the beds are nearly worked out, master, the potter lied. The best clay was on the other side of Lake Felakia, snuggled in grit-free beds he had no intention of showing the demons. This is the best we can do under the circumstances."

Khadji saw two figures steal out of the brush behind the demon. As if sensing their presence, the demon started to turn in that direction.

The potter lifted up the bucket to capture his attention.

"It only needs a little cleaning, exalted one, he said. And if there are imperfections, why we'll cover them up with the glaze. Like you said, master, a pot's a pot. But when I put my name on itTimurathere are plenty of fools at the marketplace who think the name is more important than actual quality."

"My father, Trin said, wiping a talon on Khadji's smock, who was a potter of great renown, used to tell me the same thing."

"He sounds as wise a fiend as his son, Khadji said.

The demon glared at him. Are you mocking me again, human? He raised his club. Are you?"

There was a thunk. The demon's yellow eyes suddenly widened and club fell from his hands. An arrow point protruded through his throat.

Trin pitched forward, quite dead.

Khadji upended the bucket on the corpse and spit.

"A pot's just a pot, is it? he growled. Then he opened his arms to embrace Safar. Welcome home, son, he said.

To Safar's immense embarrassment, Khadji started to weep.

"It's all right, father, he murmured, patting him uncomfortably. It's all right."

"We'd heard about all the troubles in Esmir, his father said, sipping from the mug of trail wine. Droughts and plagues and wars. But it's always been so in the outside world. And although we worried, especially for you, Safar, we never thought those troubles would arrive to take up residence before our very hearths."

Leiria and the soldiers were gathered about Safar and his father, listening closely to the old potter's tale. Less than an hour had passed since the demon had been killed, his body hidden in the brush. The group was gathered in a safe place high above Kyrania. Guards were posted to give warning if anyone came.

"Not long ago Lord Coralean came this way, Khadji said, and we heard the news of the demon invasion and capture of Caspan. He looked at Safar, eyes red-streaked, skin sagging from his long ordeal. We all remembered the demons you and Iraj encountered up in the passes of The Bride And Six Maids."

Khadji sighed. Lord Coralean was wrong, wasn't he, when he said they were only rogues who'd strayed into the humanlands?"

It was a question that didn't need answering. Safar refilled his father's cup. The old man took another sip of the restorative.

"Anyway, that's when we started worrying, he said. It seemed only logical the demons would have to come through Kyrania to attack the other side. We've always been blessed by peace in these mountains. But now it seemed that peace would be no more.

"The Elders met. There was much talk of this and that, but it was mostly nonsense, for who among us had ever faced such a situation before? Coralean had promised us he would plead with King Protarus for help, but we didn't know if the help would come at all, much less in time. So we decided to mount our own defenses."

Khadji made a bitter laugh. The lads drilled and trained and we rebuilt the walls of the old fort. But it was clear that although Kyranians can fight well enough, none of us have the killing instincts of a soldier. He glanced at Leiria and the others. I hope you don't take offense, he said. I was only speaking of professional training, not doubting the human kindness I'm sure is natural to you all."

"No offense given, or taken, Father Timura, Leiria said. We know what you meant."

Khadji looked up a Safar, anguished. In the end, he said, there was no time for resistance. They took us in our beds. And then they rounded us up and put us all in that fort we'd labored so hard to rebuild. They killed some of us to set an example. They were humiliating deaths.

"They made us watch."

Khadji brushed away a tear. I learned what it was to be a weak and selfish mortal, he said. Much as I mourned the deaths of my friends, I'm ashamed to say I knew joy because I still lived. And your mother and your sisters."

He drained the cup, covering the mouth when Safar offered more.

"And Gubadan? Safar asked.

"Gone, his father answered. He was among the first. The demons have witch sniffers, you know. Gubadan didn't have much magic. But it was enough for them to find him out."

He touched Safar's hand, tentatively, as if amazed his son wasn't a ghost. It's a good thing you weren't here, son, he said. We've all heard what a great wizard you've become. They would have found you out immediately."

"I'm surprised they let any of you live, Father Timura, Leiria said. We have the gods to thank for that."

"Not the gods, Khadji said, but a human traitor. And it isn't thanks we owe him, but all the curses we can manage."

Safar's eyes narrowed. There was a human leading them?"

"Not leading, actually, his father answered. Although they listen to his counsel with much respect. Apparently this human has powerful friends among the demons. Some even say he has the ear of Crown Prince Luka."

"Who is this man? Safar demanded. Do I know of him? Would I recognize his name."

"I believe so, Khadji answered. He certainly knows you."

When he said the name Safar jumped as if he'd been stung.

Kalasariz strolled out of the Temple of Felakia into the warm sunlight. It was late afternoon and the atmosphere in the temple, which he'd turned into his quarters, had suddenly felt too close. So he'd left his scribe to complete the report to Prince Luka and ambled outside to refresh himself.

It was a day of sharp colors and deep shadows. The sun was spun gold, the clouds pure silver, the lake and sky startling blue. He filled his lungs with air, which was heavy with the scent of blossoms. He breathed out, savoring the air's fruity aftertaste. A few birds sang a melody from the small grove down near the lake. Their song made Kalasariz smile.

Another delightful day in Kyrania, he thought. So different from the bustling, smoky squalor of Walaria. Kalasariz, who had spent his entire career eliminating surprise, was amazed at how his life had turned out. Turned upside down, actually, he thought. The only thing unsurprising was that he'd managed to land on his feet when the great emptying had begun. Kalasariz was an agile master of balance. Even his enemies would say that. He grinnedEspecially his enemies!