Foster, Dean - Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

But as Opiode lay on his back, his arms crossed

over his chest, his tail gently agitating the water, it

was plain to see he was disturbed. Tending the

crackling fire nearby was a much smaller and younger

salamander, well aware of his master's unease. Flute

wore the cloak of an apprentice. He was stouter than

Opiode, marked with black spots instead of red, and

his expression was anxious- His feathery pink gills

lay flat against his neck as he waited patiently for

Opiode to arise. A sad day. He knew what had

happened in the Quorum chamber far above. Every-

one in the city would know by tonight.

Finally Opiode rose from the basin, shifting easily

to inhaling air instead of water, and declared

portentously, "This thing must not be allowed to

happen!"

"Your pardon. Master," said Flute sofdy. "What

must not be allowed to happen?"

"I have lost. There is nothing that can be done

about that. Nor do I deny the strength of this

newcomer's magic. He is a valid wizard, or magician,

or whatever he chooses to call himself. A manipula-

tor of the unknown. But it is not his abilities I fear; it

is his intentions. Those I comprehend even less than

his magic."

He walked over to stand before the fire. Flute

moved to the table and checked the settings for

supper, then to the stove on which a big pot of

caddisfly stew sat boiling. He stirred it carefully. One

had to have a delicate touch with the dish or the

nests within would become soft and stringy and

would lose the delicate crunch so beloved of gourmets.

"Nor do I like the attitude of his original support-

ers on the Quorum," Opiode went on, staring into

the fire. "Kindore and Vazvek. Those two opportun-

THK MOMKVT OF THE MAOICIAM

15

ists would throw in their lot with anyone they thought

might help them turn a profit. And Asmouelle and

some of the others have the spines of worms. With so

much support, there is nothing to stop this Markus."

"Stop him from doing what. Master?"

"From doing whatever he wishes to do. He is chief

advisor to the Quorum. A prestigious position and

one which would satisfy most. But not him, 1 think. I

saw that much in his eyes. That is not sorcery. That is

thirty years of experience. Flute. No, he wants more.

I fear, much more."

"Evil designs. Master?"

"Flute, I have lived long enough and dealt with

those in power often enough to recognize the hun-

ger for power when it manifests itself on the face of

another. I saw it in the face of Markus the Inelucta-

ble as I left the Quorum chamber. He conceals it

from the others, but he cannot hide it from me,

"Did you know. Flute, that the great joy of living in

Quasequa is that we have never had a single ruler?

No kings here, no presidents or emperors. Only the

Quorum, which functions in a kind of constrained

anarchy. It suits us, we Quasequans.

"This Markus will think otherwise. He will see

weakness where we see strength. And it does have its

vulnerabilities, our system, particularly when some

are ready to grovel at the feet of the first would-be

dictator who comes along and declares himself."

"You think he means to announce himself absolute

ruler?"

"I wish I could be certain, but I can't." Opiode

absently cleaned his left eye with his tongue. "In any

event, I am no longer in a position to stop him."

"Is his magic so much stronger than yours, Master?"

"It was today. On another day"—he shrugged slick

shoulders—"who can say? But there is no denying

his power. If 1 only knew the source he draws

Alan Dean Foster

16

upon..." He broke off and moved to the table, the

frustration sharp on his face.

Flute reached for the potholders. "Supper, Master?"

"No, not yet." Opiode waved him off, his mind

working intensely. "If I could only be certain of his

intentions, of his motivations—but where humans

are concerned, nothing is obvious, nothing is certain."

"What if he truly is more powerful than you,

Master?" It was not a disrespectful question.

"Then we will need the assistance of one who can

deal not only with strong magic but with strange

magic."

"There is one more talented than you. Master?"

For the First time that day, Opiode smiled slighdy.

"You have seen but little of the wide world, my

young student. It is unimaginably vast and rich with

wonders and surprises. Yes, there are wizards more

powerful than I. I am thinking of one in particular.

One who is wise beyond all others, knowledgeable

beyond comprehending, stronger even, I think, than

this Markus the Ineluctable... 1 hope. One who is

brave, courageous, and bold, an inspiration to all

other wizards. It is he whose help we must have:

Clothahump of the Tree."

Flute frowned, turned away so that Opiode could

not see the skepticism on his face. "I have heard of

him. Master. Truly it is said that he is wise and full of

learning, long-lived and powerful. However, I have

yet to hear it said of him that he is brave, courageous,

and bold."

"Well," Opiode retreated somewhat, "I confess some

of it may be rumor. But his ability is proven fact. You

know that he was largely responsible for the recent

defeat of the Plated Folk at the batde for the Jo-

Troom Gale."

"I have heard many versions of that battle. Master,

some of which were less flattering to Clothahump of

THE MoMKprr OF THK MAGICIAN.

17

the Tree than others. It is told that he was there at

the critical moment, yes, but to what degree he was

involved depends on which storyteller you are listen-

ing to."

"Nevertheless, he is the only one powerful enough

to help us. We must seek his aid. He cannot refuse

us."

"How will you inform him. Master?" Flute gazed

sadly at the supper that was on the verge of

overcooking. "Shall I prepare the pentagram for a

traveling conjuration?"

"No." Opiode rose from the table. "This Markus

might be strong enough to detect it. And there is no

guarantee of its working, given the distance the

conjuration would have to travel. Clothahump's home

lies a long way from Quasequa—and I am getting

old. It has been a long time since I attempted a

traveling conjuration over such a distance."

Flute was shocked by this admission of weakness

but fought not to show it. Truly the loss of today's

contest had weakened not only his Master's stature

but his confidence as well.

Or perhaps Opiode the Sly was merely being prop-

eriy cautious. Flute preferred to think that that was

the case.

"We must have a messenger," the wizard muttered.

"A reliable messenger. One who is used to traveling

far and fast and who will not be afraid to leave the

familiar country that surrounds the Lake of Sorrow-

ful Pearls." He thought a moment longer before

nodding to himself and looking up at his apprentice-

"Khi the Isle of Kunatweh, the furthermost of the

four high islands that form the eastern part of the

.city, hi the place where the fliers congregate, lives a

raven named Pandro. Bring him here to "me- Make

certain that none see you. I will explain what he

must do. Although 1 have never had reason to use

18 Alan Dean Foster

one such as him before, by reputation he is brave

and trustworthy. Again 1 tell you to take care in your

going and returning. It is said that this Markus