Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

Abubensu went on. Your neighbors, he said, are all of wealth and breeding like yourself, My Lady. Their homes are close enough to give comfort, but distant enough to ensure privacy."

"I mentioned in my letter, Lady Fatinah said, that I'd like to host a banquet as soon as possible to introduce myself to Zanzarian society."

"It has been done, My Lady! Abubensu said with a pleased smile. As a matter of fact I've taken the liberty of arranging an affair two nights from now. Invitations have been sent to a favored fewall beings of quality, mind you. And your staff, which I picked myself, is at this moment readying the banquet."

"There was one person in particular I asked you to invite, Lady Fatinah said. Was that done?"

Abubensu bobbed his head. Yes, My Lady. Lord Timura has been invited."

"And has he accepted?"

He hesitated. Alas, My Lady, not as yet."

"But you expect him to? Lady Fatinah pressed.

The little man shrugged. I can't promise, My Lady, he said. After all, he is the Grand Wazier, second only to King Protarus in importance."

Abubensu attempted a bit of gossip to steer conversation away from disappointment. They were childhood friends, you know, he said. They even call each other by their first namesSafar and Irajwhen in private."

He leaned closer, voice conspiratorial. Although it is said that Lord Timura is not in such good grace with His Majesty these days. He has enemies who whisper ill things in the king's ear."

A dramatic shrug. Who knows if these things are true, My Lady, he said. Perhaps it is best after all if Lord Timura fails to attend. Why bring his political troubles to your esteemed doorstep?"

Lady Fatinah's eyes narrowed. I want him at the banquet, she said, and there was no mistaking her firmness in the matter.

Abubensu struggled with his answer, clearly at a loss. I will try, My Lady, he said, but I can't swear that it's possible."

Lady Fatinah smiled, saying, I have every faith in you, Abubensu."

She handed him a silk purse filled with coin. Favor who you want with those, she said. Abubensu hefted the purse, brows rising as he noted the weight. And you may keep whatever is left over for yourself.

"But make certain Lord Timura is there."

She turned to look out the window.

They'd come to a wide square and when she looked north she could see the blossoming trees that edged the Royal Gardens.

Beyond were the spires of the Grand Palace, glittering eerily under the ever-present Demon Moon.

Nerisa wondered if Safar would remember her after all these years.

"In the end, King Protarus said, it all reduces itself to money."

He snorted in disgust, an action much noted by the members of the assembled Royal Court. His snort would frame their discussions, dreams and nightmares for many days to come. Policy would be set because of that snort. Alliances threatened, reformed, or shattered. Thousands of miles away, men both small and large would tremble when news arrived of the king's sharply expelled breath.

"Every time I need to do something, Protarus said, I'm told the cost is too dear. And when Isimple plainsman that I amsuggest the solution is to get more money, why I'm told there's no more to be had!"

The king's glare flowed down the several-leveled courtroom. First it took in Safar, his Grand Wazier and second in command, next the platform where King Lukawhose formal title was Prince of Zanzairsat with Lord Fari and other important demons. Below were the Protarus generals and top aides, a mixed lot that included demons and a few of his remaining rough plainsmen. Keeping himself slightly apart from this group was Kalasariz, who daily measured the distance and height between him and Safar. Beyond was the main floor of the courtroom, a vast area of hierarchical flatness where some courtiers were known to wear boosted up bootheels so they could stand taller and imagine they held greater favor with the king.

"Someone explain to me how this can be, Protarus demanded. I am monarch of all Esmir. I number my subjects by the millions. All of whom seem to be going about making money and prospering, while their king lacks the basic means of running the kind of kingdom where they can prosper."

Protarus shook his head. My problem is that I'm too generous, he said. I made all my friends wealthy. Palaces, lands, money… Money! There's that word again!"

He looked at Safar. You have money, Lord Timura, he said. Why don't I?"

"You have only to ask, Majesty, Safar said, and I will give it all back to you."

Frustrated, Protarus rapped the edge of his throne with bejeweled knuckles. That's not the point, Lord Timura, he said. I'm not that sort of monarch. Once I give a gift, I never ask for its return."

Leiria, Safar's guard and bedmate, stirred uncomfortably. She'd once been such a gift.

"The point is this, Protarus continued, you have money and I don't because you have only your own household to keep up."

Protarus hand swept across the courtroom, taking it all in. I've got a kingdom to maintain. That's my household! And where does my household money go? Not for luxuries, that's for certain.

"The gods know I'm a man of simple tastes."

No one dared mention this was a great exaggeration. Protarus had long since shed his soldierly past and reveled in the comforts and pleasures of being King of Kings. He had many palaces, all fully staffed, vast stables of fine mounts of every variety and purpose, huge rooms packed with decorative weapons and armor, bulging storehouses and wine cellars, and immense harems stocked with a continuously refreshed supply of women.

The king sighed and sagged back in his throne, weary. The seven year reign had been difficult and it showed. Although he was still a man of less then thirty summers, he looked ten years older. His pride, his long golden locks, had thinned and he'd taken to wearing a jeweled skull cap beneath his crown. His beard was streaked with gray strands and his brow was plowed with worry lines.

"Tell us the problem again, Lord Timura, he said. Lay it out fully so all can see."

Safar murmured respectful assent and rose. He strode up to Protarus level and motioned to some men-in-waiting to pull aside the immense curtain behind the king's throne.

The wall was covered with a tremendous bas relief of Esmir. The largest features were the Gods Divide, splitting much of the land from east to west, and the great desert, no longer forbidden, which had once separated human and demons.

Safar palmed a few pellets, hurled his hand downward in a dramatic gesture and there were several sharp retorts, drawing gasps from the courtincluding Irajand a thin haze of smoke curtained up from floor to ceiling. Behind the haze the bas relief suddenly glowed into being, causing a low chorus of amazement. They were looking at a living map of Esmir, complete with small moving figures, forests waving in the winds and waves beating distant shores.

Safar made a low bow to Iraj, with a sweeping showman's flourish.

"Behold your kingdom, Majesty, he announced.

Fari thought, I wonder how Timura does it? Not the living map… I understand that. Possibly even reproduce it, given a look at his notes. But the explosions and haze are another matter. Where was the magic? I sensed nothing!

This mystery was only one of several reasons Fari believed Safar must go.

Iraj's mood lightened. He clapped, saying, Oh, very good, Safar. Very good!"

This was followed by a small patter of applause from the court. Luka grimly rattled his talons in false appreciation.

He thought, why all the flourishes and dramatic gestures? You would think this was entertainment instead of the serious business of administration. He's playing up to us, especially to Protarus.

Luka bitterly resented Safar's influence over Protarus. As Prince of Zanzair, Luka considered himself the second most important potentate in Esmir. He should be advising Protarus, not that commoner Safar Timura.