by Allan Cole
"We are men of Walaria, good men and pious. Blessed be, blessed be. Our women are chaste, our children respectful. Blessed be, blessed be…
While the assembly sang, the white-robed lads gently touched their lashes against Muzine's flesh in the motions of whipping. Muzine wailed as if he were being severely tormented, believing, as all did, that the louder his cries, the more painful-sounding his shrieks, the more the God Rybian would be fooled into thinking Muzine was being sorely punished.
Finally, Muzine gave a scream more terrible than the others and collapsed on the floor. His minders quickly anointed his backwhich was unmarkedwith soothing oils, kissing him and whispering words of sympathy in his ear. When Muzine deemed sufficient time had passed for him to make a recovery, he rose up with much pretended difficulty and pain. Tears streamed down his long face, which was split by the beatific smile of one who has found the Light again. The lads helped him with his tunic and gave him a tumbler of spirits. Muzine drank deeply, wiped his eyes and then joined in the songs.
Safar became bored with the farce and looked about to see if there was a way he could creep off without being noticed. Just then the iron gates of the animal cage clanged open and his head swiveled back to see what poor creature Muzine had chosen to bribe Rybian's forgiveness.
To his surprise, he saw an old lioness being led out on a slender silver chain. Muzine must have done something really awful, Safar thought. He'd been at the temple long enough to know that a lion was the most expensive and therefor rarest single animal to be sacrificed. Safar decided the sin must have been murder, and probably not that of a slave.
He looked closer at the huge lionesswhich stood nearly as high as the white-robed boy who led her. Her movements were slow, paws dragging as she took each step toward the altar. Her eyes were so heavy from the drugs she'd been fed that they were mere slits on either side of her broad face. Despite the size of the lioness, Safar's heart gave a wrench, for she reminded him of his family cat in Kyrania who patrolled the goat stalls for greedy rodents. It had sat on his lap for many an hour, cleaning itself and consoling him when he told it his boyhood miseries.
Then he noticed the lionesses large, swinging pouch and heavy teats and knew she'd recently given birth. Even drugged, he thought, she must be in a torment wondering what had happened to her cubs.
Umurhan signaled and the singing stopped. He turned to the altar, saying, O Rybian, Merciful Master of us all, take pity on this poor mortal before you. Forgive him his sins. Accept this humble gift he presents you. And let him sleep once again in all innocence."
Umurhan motioned and one of the boys led Muzine to the lioness. He handed the merchant a large sacrificial knife. The other boys crowded close, holding elaborately decorated jars to catch the blood. Muzine gingerly gripped the lioness by her scruff. She made no motion or sign that she understood what was happening. The Muzine drew the knife across her throat. Blood dribbled from the cut, but the flow was so slight that Safar knew Muzine's nerve had failed and he hadn't been able to cut deeply enough to end the lioness suffering.
Muzine tried again and this time a boy gripped his hand, pushing hard and making sure the deed was properly done. The lioness moaned and blood gushed into the bowls.
She sagged to the floor.
Everyone cheered and jumped up, praising Rybian and welcoming the sinner Muzine's return to the fold. Muzine came forward, Umurhan at his side, to accept the acolytes congratulations. Behind them the three white-robed lads got busy butchering the lioness out to prepare for the next stage of the ceremony.
Then the din was shattered by a spine-freezing roar and everyone's heart stopped and everyone's head jerked toward the half-skinned corpse.
The air above the dead beast turned an angry red and then all gasped as the lioness ghost emerged, crouching on the body, tail lashing, lips peeled back over long yellow fangs, screaming her hatred.
The ghost lioness leaped and the frozen tableaux became unstuck. There were screams and the crowd ran for cover, tangling and jamming the exits with their bodies.
Safar stayed in his hiding place and saw that despite the hysteria a dozen priests and acolytes quickly surrounded Umurhan and Muzine and got them to safety through a small door at the edge of the altar.
Meanwhile, the ghost cat sailed into the mass of fleeing figures. She struck out with her translucent claws. Blood sprayed in every direction and there were screams of pain from the wounded. Then she caught someone in her jaws and held him down while the others scrambled awayjamming the exits and hugging the walls.
The ghost lion crouched over her victim, gripping him by the shoulder and shaking him furiously back and forth. The young man she'd caught was still alive and wailed most piteously.
Suddenly what felt like an unseen hand pushed Safar out of hiding. He walked slowly toward the raging lioness, one part of him gibbering in fear, the other intent only on the soul of the poor Ghostmother, alone and agonizing over her newborn cubs the only way she knew how.
The ghost saw him and dropped the screaming acolyte. She snarled and paced toward him, extended claws clicking on the stone. But Safar kept on, his pace slow and measured. He held out his right handtwo fingers and a thumb spreading wide in the universal gesture of a wizard forming a spell.
He spoke, his voice low and soothing. I'm sorry to see you here, Ghostmother, he said. This is a terrible place for a ghost. So much blood. So little pity. It will spoil your milk and your cubs will go hungry."
The lioness ghost kept coming, eyes boiling, jaws open and slavering. Safar went on, closing the distance between them, talking all the while.
"Evil men did this to you Ghostmother, he said. They trapped you and slew your cubs. They brought you to this place to die. But the guilty ones aren't in this courtyard, Ghostmother. There are only human cubs, here. Male cubs, Ghostmother. And it your duty to see that no harm comes to male cubs."
The stalking ghost growled, but her fury seemed lessened. A few more steps and then the two metand stopped.
Safar steeled his nerves as the lioness, instead of killing him on the spot, sniffed his body, growling all the while. When she was done she looked him in the face, cat's eyes searching deep into his own for any lie that might be hidden there. Then she roared and it was so loud he was nearly lifted out of his sandals. But he held steady, and then the ghostly form of the lioness sat back her heelsface level with his own.
"You see how it is, Ghostmother, he said. I had nothing to do with your sadness, although I mourn the loss. He gestured at the cowering acolytes. And these male cubs are as innocent as I. Please don't harm them, Ghostmother."
The lion ghost yawned its anxiety, but sank down at Safar's feet.
"It's time you thought of yourself, Ghostmother, Safar said. Your cubs are dead and their little ghosts are hungry. You should go to them quickly so they don't suffer. Think of them, Ghostmother. They have no experience in this world, much less the next. Haven't you heard them crying for you?
"Why, listenthey're crying now."
Safar made a gesture and there came the faint sound of mewing from far away. The ghost's ears shot up and she cocked her head, eyes wide with concern. Safar gestured again and the mewing grew louder and more frantic. The lioness whined.
"Go to them, Ghostmother, Safar said. Leave this place and find peace with your cubs."
The lioness bolted up. Safar forced to himself not to react in alarm. Then she roared a final time and vanished.
For a moment the only sound was the echo of the lioness roar. Then all became confusion as everyone shouted in relief and ran to Safar to thank him. Then, in the midst of this chaos, the crowd suddenly went silent and parted. Safar, still dazed and weary from his effort, saw Umurhan approach as if in a haze.
"Who is he? he heard the wizard ask.
"Safar Timura, Master. Safar Timura. A new acolyte. He's new."
Umurhan's eyes swiveled to Safar. They looked him up and down, measuring. Then he asked, Why didn't tell anyone you ha
d the talent, Acolyte Timura?"
"It's nothing, Master, Safar said. My talent is very small."
"I'll be the judge of that, acolyte, Umurhan answered. He turned to the repetitious priest. Begin Acolyte Timura's education tomorrow, he ordered.
Then, without another word or look at Safar, he stalked away.
All became confusion again as Safar's fellow students crowded around to clap his back and congratulate him for being admitted to the ranks of the university's elite.
****
Safar hurried down the long main corridor of the first floor. There was no one to be seenmost of the students and priests would be gathered in prayer in the main assembly hall at this hour. The classrooms and offices he went by were empty and he could smell the stale stink of old magic from the practice spells his fellow students had cast the day before.
At the end of the corridor he came to the vast stairwell that joined the various levels. One group of stairs led downward, into the bowels of the university. The other climbed to the second floor where Umurhan and the priests lived. Safar hesitated, torn between his original purpose and the sudden thought the knowledge he sought in Umurhan's library would most likely be unguarded. He'd have about half an hour before the daily assembly ended and Umurhan and the other priests returned to the top floor.
"You can go either way, Gundara whispered from his shoulder. Both are safe."
"Maybe later, Safar muttered, and then he ran down the stairs before the new idea could delay him from his most important task.
****
Although Safar met with Umurhan many times after the incident with the lioness, the wizard never thanked him or even raised the subject again. As Safar's education progressed and it soon became clear to all that he was a remarkable student of sorcery, Umurhan not only kept his distance but seemed to become colderand Safar would look up suddenly from his studies and find the wizard watching him. Gubadan had warned Safar about Umurhan before he'd left Kyrania. Although he'd never told the old priest about his abilities, Safar got the impression during that last conversation somehow Gubadan had guessed something was upand that there was magic behind it.
"Lord Umurhan has the reputation of being a jealous man, Gubadan had told him. He doesn't like students or priests who show off their intelligence or powers. So beware, my lad. Every teacher doesn't receive his reward from guiding a young man to heights they could never achieve themselves. Go carefully in Lord Umurhan's presence, is my best advice to you. And never, never show him up."
Safar took Gubadan's advice to heart. As he progressed through his classes and spell-casting sessions he was always careful not to outshine Umurhanalthough it soon became apparent to him that he could, especially as he learned more and delved on his own into the arcane arts of sorcery. He occasionally made purposeful mistakes when he thought Umurhan was becoming suspicious. Umurhan always took particular pleasure when Safar pretended to bumble, chastising him loudly, calling him a mountain bumpkin and other names intended to humiliate.
Umurhan loved to lord his mastery over the acolytes. He also held back his knowledge. When the classes became more advanced and the students were closing the ground on Umurhan, he protected his self esteem by teaching only so much and no more. When a spell was particularly powerful Umurhan tended to make his explanations so obscure no one could follow them, much less duplicate the spell. He also had a way of excusing himself when a thorny question was asked. He'd nervously plead other business, disappear for a short time, then return and answer the question with a confidence his previous demeanor hadn't shown.
Where he went during that time was no mystery to any of the students. They were at a cynical age, an age when details older people might overlook were easily apparent to them. It was an open secret Umurhan retired to his private library during those moments, cribbing from ancient masters to shore up his own facade. No one but Umurhan was allowed to peruse the books in that library. The excuse given was that there were forbidden books and scrolls on the black arts stored there that were so deadly, so evil, that no one but the High Priest of Walaria should read themand then only in an emergency and only to ward off black spells cast against the city.
Safar's intense curiosity had led him to investigate the library. The library did contain material on black magic. But it was mainly a massive and confused collection of knowledge gathered by Umurhan's predecessorsrare scrolls, books by forgotten masters, volumes in strange languages and hand-written dictionaries of those languages, with magical symbols added by later men as marginalia. Using the books at Foolsmire, Safar had gradually deciphered the languages. His late night studies and secret visits put him on the trail of Asper, the ancient master of all master wizards, who also happenedSafar suspectedto have been a demon. One of the bits of marginalia even gave him strong reason to believe Asper's work was hidden somewhere in the chaos that was Umurhan's private library.
He'd been searching for it when he was discovered.
****
Safar crouched in the darkest of the library, a candle stub his only aid, as he hurriedly combed through cob-webbed scrolls and books with cracked bindingsearching for the strange, four-headed snake symbol he knew to be Asper's seal.
Then an oil lamp had flared into life behind him and he whirled to find Umurhan hovering over himeyes blazing like spear points fresh from the forge.
"What are you doing here, acolyte? he thundered.
Safar fumbled excuses"Forgive me, Master. I was worried about the exam and, I, uh… uh… I thought I, uh…"
"Are you claiming to be a cheat, Safar Timura? Umurhan roared. Is that your puny reason for violating my privacy?"
"Ye-es, Mas-ttter, ye-ye-yes, Safar stuttered.
"Then why are you among the forbidden books, acolyte? Umurhan shouted. He pointed down the narrow aisle to the front of the library. Why didn't I find your filthy, cheating personage up there? Why weren't you stealing your answers from writings that have not been condemned?"
Safar wanted to shout that no knowledge should be forbidden. And that, as a matter of fact, even the supposed innocent works in this library were denied to all but Umurhan. Instead, Safar pretended to panicwith Umurhan looming over him it wasn't hardbabbling that he was only trying to hide from the light and had come here by accident. He streamed forth such a mad babble of half-confessions and false apologies and pleas for mercy that Umurhan's suspicions were quieted.
"Silence, Umurhan shouted, cutting Safar off in mid babble. You do understand I could have you seized this moment and charged with heresy?"
"Yes, Master, Safar answered, humble as he could.
"The only reason I'm not going to do so is that I believe you are nothing more than a low cheat."
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I'm sorry, Master. It won't happen again, Master."
"Oh, I know you won't do it again, Acolyte Timura. I will see to that. I will withhold my punishment just now. I want you to contemplate your sins while I consider your fate."
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."
"The only reason I'm not immediately expelling you… or worse, by the gods, because I could do much worse! You understand that, don't you acolyte."
"Yes, Master. I understand."
"The sole reason I don't condemn you on the spot is because of the respect I have for your mentor, Lord Muzine. For some reason I shall never fathom he has a certain regard for your future and well being."
"Yes, Master, Safar mumbled, knocking his head on the ground. But he knew that what Umurhan was really remembering was the lioness and her ghost.
Although Safar had never been called into Muzine's company, his allowance had been increased after the incident. It had been coldly announced by Muzine's major domo, who harshly cautioned him about ever mentioning the ceremony or the event. It was plain to him now Umurhan feared the incident would get out if Safar's crime became a public matter. Questions would be raised about the sin Muzine wanted expunged. And even greater questions would be asked about the quality of Umu
rhan's magic. How could such a great wizard allow something like that to happen? And worst of allperhaps Umurhan wasn't as powerful as he claimed.
Safar had been granted a reprieve, but he knew now it was a short reprieveand getting shorter every moment.
****
"Hsst! came Gundara's warning. Danger ahead!"
Safar stopped. Below him was the final bend in the stairwell. It spilled out into the deepest and least glamorous level of the university. It was a place of boiling kitchen pots, foul garbage bins and huge clay pipes running overhead that carried water in and sewage out. Safar listened closely and after a moment made out the sound of a cleaning brush being rubbed against stone.
He resumed his journey, but at a slower pace. When he rounded the bend he saw a young acolyte kneeling on the steps. There was a bucket of water beside him and a brush in his hands. He was making lazy, half-hearted swipes at the steps with the brushdoing little more than dribbling water on the begrimed stone. But soon as he sensed Safar's presence the lazy swipes were replaced with vigorous scrubbing. The young man looked up, brow furrowed deeply as if the job required great concentration. But when he saw Safar he relaxed. He sat back on his heels, a wide, insolent grin splitting his face.
"Oh, it's only you, Timura. Gave me a start there for a minute. Thought you might be that whoreson, Hunker. Sneaking down here to catch me taking a little break."
Hunker was the priest in charge of punishment details. Any student in trouble learned to hate him on sight. He assigned the filthiest jobs and drove the workers like the spavined ox of the meanest miller.
Safar snorted. That's me, Hunker, in the flesh. And I'm down here to set all you sinful bastards a good example. That's why I'm going to spend my entire day crouched over a shithole and setting it on fire. Love the smell of that stuff burning. Love to show all you lazy swine how a real wizard works."
The acolyte, whose name was Ersen, had the reputation of being the most indolent troublemaker in the university. Ersen was a constant, unruly presence on the punishment details. It was well know that the only reason he hadn't been expelled was because his father was an elder on King Didima's court. Despite his noble background, Ersen was popular with everyone. He took his punishment in good humor and always presented a sympathetic ear to his fellow miscreants. A sympathy many hoped would translate into protection for that miscreant through his influential father.