Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician Read online

  "You'd prefer swords?" Markus asked him, over-

  hearing. "Or maybe something more lethal still? Like

  this." He threw his left hand toward the ceiling- A

  burst of lightning flew from his fingers to shatter the

  pole holding a banner across the table. Splinters and

  fabric tumbled onto the Quorum. Markus grinned as

  they fought to extricate themselves while maintaining

  their dignity.

  "Something more impressive?" he inquired.

  "No, no, that will be quite satisfactory," harrumphed

  Trendavi, trying to untangle himself from the fallen

  banner.

  "You can feed and you can destroy," snapped

  Opiode, "but can you create?"

  Again the salamander's hands moved in time to his

  mouth.

  "Jewels of the earth

  Scarce and profound

  Gems of great worth

  Come forth from the ground

  Rise here to please us

  To tempt and to tease us!"

  Crystals of blue and yellow, of rose and lavender

  began to take shape in the center of the table. They

  seemed to grow out of the wood, catching the light

  as they developed, throwing back delightful colors at

  the enraptured members. By the time Opiode con-

  cluded the incantation, the entire table was encrusted

  with crystals. A smattering of applause came from

  the servitors gathered along the walls-

  But Markus the Ineluctable only smiled wider as

  THS MOMEHT OF THE MAQtCIAM 11

  he moved his fingers against one another. The ap-

  plause for Opiode turned to awed whispers.

  Flowers began to appear, growing out of the na-

  ked stone of the walls and ceiling. Exotic, alien

  blossoms that put forth the most exquisite smells. A

  blaze of color and fragrance filled the Quorum cham-

  ber to overflowing.

  You could see the opinions of several members of

  the Quorum begin to shift in/Markus's favor.

  "Satisfied yet?" Markus asked them. "You tell me

  which of us is the more powerful magician."

  "A magician is a trickster, not a wizard," said

  Opiode.

  Markus shrugged. "I prefer magician. I'm comfort-

  able with it. I've always called myself a magician. As

  for my 'tricks,' they seem just as effective as your

  wizardry. Had enough?"

  "There is one more thing," said Opiode slowly.

  "You have shown what you can do for others, but can

  you do for yourself?" So saying he pointed a red-and-

  black arm at Markus's face and uttered an incanta-

  tion so powerful the words cannot stand repeating.

  A slight but steady breeze sprang up, rippling the

  fur of the onlookers, and the glow bulbs grew dim. No

  one in the chamber dared to breathe, lest a fraction

  of that energy latch onto them and turn them to

  dust.

  As they stared, Markus the Ineluctable began to

  rise from the floor. He put his hands on his hips and

  considered his levitation thoughtfully, then nodded

  appreciatively in Opiode's direction.

  "Hey. not bad. Not bad at all." Then he raised one

  hand and murmured something almost indifferently.

  Opiode the Siy, Opiode the clever, Opiode the

  principal advisor in matters arcane and magical to

  the Quorum of Quasequa, vanished.

  Shouts and cries from the servitors, mild panic

  Aim Dean roster

  12

  among the more impressionable members of the.

  Quorum as Markus settled gently back to the ground.

  "What have you done with him?" Domunnur's

  teeth were clenched, but he knew when he was

  overmatched. There was little more he could do than

  ask. "Where is he?"

  "Where is he? Well now, let me think." Markus

  rubbed his chin. "He might be over... there!" He

  pointed sharply toward a far doorway. Servitors

  stationed there scattered, dropping a platter of fruit

  behind them. Markus turned, inspecting the chamber.

  "Or he might be... under there." A couple of the

  members of the Quorum inadvertently peered un-

  der the table, hastily sat up straight in their chairs

  when they realized how easily the newcomer had

  manipulated them.

  "But he's actually probably right... here." Markus

  the Ineluctable removed his black hat, turned it

  upside down, and tapped it once, twice, a third time.

  Out plopped a dazed and very disoriented Opiode

  the Sly. Disdaining Markus's proffered hand, the

  salamander struggled to his feet and backed away,

  shaking his head and trying to regain his bearings.

  From the Quorum came a rising cry in support of

  Markus.

  Opiode ignored it, stared narrowly at his opponent.

  "I don't know how you did that, but of one thing I

  am certain: it was no clean wizardry."

  "Oh, it was clean enough," said Markus smugly.

  "Just a mite different from what you're used to,

  that's all. Are you afraid of something different,

  something new?" He turned to face the Quorum.

  "Are you all afraid of something different, even if it's

  better than what you've been used to?"

  "No," said Trendavi quickly. "We are not afraid of

  what is different, or of what is new. We of Quasequa

  pride ourselves on accepting new things, on promot-

  TBS MOMENT OP TSOE MAGICIAN

  13

  ing innovation." He gazed sorrowfully in Opiode's

  direction. "It is my recommendation and I hereby

  move that the Quorum officially nominate Markus

  the Ineluctable to the position of chief advisor to the

  Quorum on matters arcane and magical, and I fur-

  thermore move that Opiode the Sly, who has served

  us so well lo these many years, be retired from the

  post with a vote of thanks and an official commenda-

  tion to be decided upon later."

  "Seconded!" said a pair of voices simultaneously.

  And that was that. It was done, over, and Markus

  stood smiling, arms crossed before him as his sup-

  porters gathered around to congratulate him on his

  victory and those who had opposed him moved to

  offer grudging words of acceptance. A few would

  have offered their condolences to the defeated Opiode,

  but the salamander did not linger. Instead, he left

  quickly and with dignity, still a bit shaken from the

  manner in which Markus had handled him, but in

  no way cowed or t>eaten.

  It was dark in the wizard's study. But then, Opiode

  preferred the dim light and the dampness. His rooms

  were situated at the edge of the Quorumate Com-

  plex and below the water line. Ancient stones held

  back the warm water of the Lake of Sorrowful Pearls

  while allowing a pleasant dampness to seep through.

  Thick moss, red as well as green, grew on the stones

  and ceiling. The furniture was fashioned of stone or

  boram root, which resists rot.

  Glow bulbs dangled overhead, their magic lights

  dimmer than usual, the weak illumination a reflec-

  tion of the wizard's uncomfortable state of mind.


  Opiode stared steadily at one flickering bulb as he

  lay in his thinktank. The stone basin was filled with

  freshly drawn lake water rich with lichens, mosses,

  tight blue hot pads, and minute aquatic insects.

  14 Alan Dean Foster

  Altogether, the rooms constituted a benign and

  thoroughly salamandrine environment.

  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

  already has spies roaming the city and reporting

  back only to him.

  "Although he defeated me today, he strikes me as

  no fool. I am sure he still regards me as his most

  dangerous rival. In that he is right," Opiode muttered

  grimly. "I sense and see what kind of individual he is

  and so am unalterably opposed to having him in a

  position of power in the city 1 love so dearly. I believe

  he must know my feelings toward him, and in any

  case, such as he will leave nothing to chance. So he

  will have this place watched. At least you can slip out

  without being seen. I do not believe anyone eke

  knows of my private entryway."

  "When do I leave. Master?"

  "Now." The wizard hesitated. "Have you eaten?"

  "It does not matter. Master. I can eat anytime.**

  "No," Opiode said firmly." "You may need all your

  strength. First we eat."

  They did so, the meal passing largely in contempla-

  tive silence. Then Flute secured his waterproof cloak

  snugly around him and moved to the arched alcove

  on the far side of the room. The arch was an

  inverted bell fashioned of tightly chinked tile. A

  pressure spell invoked by Opiode kept the lake water

  out.

  Flute climbed the stone steps until he could look

  out onto the black water that lapped against the wall

  of the bell. He readied his gills, fluffing them out