Wizard of the winds tott-1

by Allan Cole

  He was heading off to sleep in the roustabout's tent when Methydia emerged from a small, gaily-decorated pavilion and beckoned him.

  "I think we need to have a little talk, my sweet, she said, gesturing for him to enter.

  The pavilion, lit by oil lamps, was spread with thick carpets. Pillows were piled onto trunks to make comfortable chairs. A curtained hammock was strung at the back for a bed.

  Methydia bade Safar to sit and poured him a little wine. She raised her glass in a toast, intoning, May the winds be gentle, the stars be bright. May the crew be skilled, the landing light. And they drank.

  After a moment, Methydia said, I heard about your little trick with the lucky coin. Apparently you made a little girl and her mother very happy."

  Safar became uneasy. Although Methydia was smiling and her words were gentle, he could see from the look in her eye the purpose of this visit had nothing to do with compliments. It was time to bare his soul.

  "I haven't told you everything about me, Safar confessed.

  "If you mean that you left out the small part about being a wizard, Methydia said with exaggerated mildness, I expect you're right."

  "Only a student wizard, Safar hastened to add.

  Methydia curled a lip. I see. Only a student. Well, that certainly makes me feel much better."

  "I'm sorry, Safar said, feeling as socially clumsy as Arlain. I didn't mean to deceive you."

  "Oh, you didn't deceive me, Methydia said. I sensed you had certain powers right off. And after your little confession about being hunted by powerful men, I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me the rest. But I've never been known for my patience. So I'm asking you to tell me now."

  "I was really deceiving myself, more than anything, Safar said. Magic has brought me nothing but grief. And after what happened in WalariaI suppose I just wanted a rest. To live normally for a while."

  "There was a girl, Methydia said. Nerisa, I believe? She saw Safar's look of surprise and explained, You babbled quite a bit while you were unconscious. Her name was mentioned more than most. A young lover, I presume?"

  Safar shook his head. No, she was just a child. A street urchin who became my friend. She died saving my life."

  Methydia drank a little of her wine, eyeing him across the rim. Then, From the way you railed in your sleep, I thought something tragic had happened to her."

  "I only wish it could have been Nerisa instead of me you found in the desert, Safar said.

  "Some would say you ought to take comfort in the gods, Methydia said. Pray that they had their reasons for choosing one over the other. Personally, I've never found that sort of thing much help. But you might."

  Safar shook his head. No."

  Methydia drew a small vial out of her sleeve. Give me your wine, she said.

  Puzzled, he complied. She poured the contents of the vial into his glass and stirred it with a long, graceful finger.

  She handed him the glass. Drink it, she commanded.

  "What is it? Safar asked.

  "Oh, just a little potion my old granny taught me how to make, she said. It will help heal the wounds caused by your friend's death."

  Safar hesitated. Methydia pushed the glass to his lips. It won't make you forget Nerisa, my sweet, she said softly. It will just make everything seem long ago. And therefore easier to bear."

  Safar drank. The potion was tasteless, but when it hit his belly it frothed up into heady fumes that seemed to rise along the back of his spine. He felt his muscles relax, then his tight-strung nerves.

  He closed his eyes and saw Nerisa's face with its twisted little grin.

  The face filled his mind's eye for a moment, then recededfloating away, deep into darkness, until it was a small image.

  Then he put her away in a special chest of memories where the sweet mingled with the bitter.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE WORM OF KYSHAAT

  An unseasonable cold snap ended their stay at Deming and they sailed south to warmer climes, storms and blustery winds at their back.

  Safar knew from first-hand experience the storms were from out of the seas beyond Caspan. They came regularlyalthough usually not this earlyracing across the northern lands, bursting over the Gods Divide, then rolling down the southern slopes of the Bride's gown to sweep across the wide plains to the mountains beyond Jaspar.

  Although the Cloudship was untroubled by the stormsalways staying just ahead of the frontal windsit was moving much faster than before, covering as much as two hundred miles in a day.

  With every mile Safar was flung farther from Kyrania and soon, like Nerisa's image, all thoughts of home receded into the background. He was overcome by a marvelous feeling of freedom. They sailed across seas of crystal air, over great fluffy fields of clouds, through flocks of bright-feathered birds and under starry skies where the moon was so close it seemed you only had to turn the ship's wheel and you could fly to it.

  They sailed on a loose schedule Methydia kept in her head. Day would blend into delightful day, then she'd suddenly issue orders and they'd prepare to land at a town or village where there was always a crowd to fill the ship's larder and the troupe's purses.

  After that first night in Deming Methydia evidently came to some sort of decision and began to teach him her own brand of magic. Her training mocked all the forms and conventions of Umurhan's School of Sorcery. In Methydia's view presentation was more important than the spell itself.

  "I suppose it's true that magic is a science, she told Safar one day. There are rules and the scholars tell us there are reasons for those rules."

  As she spoke Methydia was sorting through a large wardrobe chest looking for a suitable costume for Safar.

  "Personally, she said, the whys and wherefores never interested me. I'm an artist. I don't care why something happens. Only the effect it has on my art."

  Methydia held up a dark blue shirt with a plunging neckline and floppy sleeves. It was decorated like a starry night, silvery constellations swirling in the dim light of her cabin's oil lamps.

  "This is perfect, she murmured. It'll bring out the blue of your eyes. Methydia set the shirt aside and continued rummaging.

  She said, I created a circus to display my art. I didn't have the idea until my lovers made the Cloudship possible. I was an actress, then. Billed as a woman of beauty and mystery. I kept my witchery locked in a box, like my makeup. I only used it to cure a blemish, trouble a rival or heighten my performance by wresting a sob from the audience.

  "But soon as I saw the Cloudship the idea came to me'Methydia's Flying Circus of Miracles. My life as an actressand hidden witchsuddenly seemed tawdry. Meaningless. Unfulfilling."

  Methydia paused, holding up a pair of breeches that were a near match to the shirt. She studied it, then wrinkled her nose. Too too much, she muttered, tossing the breeches back into the chest and continuing her search.

  "Where was I? she asked, then"Oh, yes. My life as unfulfilled actress. Her face turned serious, gestures dramatic. I wanted more, she said, and yes, I admit it, the more was applause. I'm a self-centered bitch, but then what true artist isn't? The circus gave my art purpose. And in that purpose I found my heart. That is the gift I give to my audience now… She laid a light hand on her breast. My heart."

  She held the dramatic moment, then went on. I like to please people, she said, to lift away their troubles, to thrill them with danger that is always happening to another, but in the end they know is safe. I like to help them remember how it was to be young, how it was to love, and if they're younghow what might be, may be."

  Suddenly Methydia solemn expression dissolved into one of delight. She clapped her hands, making Safar jump with surprise.

  "Here's just the thing! she cried, hauling a pair of snowy white breeches from the trunk.

  Methydia held them up, looking critical and turning them this way and that.

  She tugged at the seat. We'll have take them in here, she said. Then she grinned, So the ladi
es can see your assets better."

  Safar blushed, mumbling something about it not being seemly.

  "Nonsense, Methydia replied. If Arlain and I can jiggle about for the lads, the least you can do is give the maids a thrill. That's what makes a show. A little sex, a little comedy, a clown chase. All frosting on the cake."

  She placed the breeches next to the shirt. Now all we need is a wide belt and tight boots and you'll have the rubes eating out of your hand."

  Then Methydia gave him his first lesson. To his surprise, she started by having him show her the coin spell he'd used on the little girl in Deming.

  "That's easy, Safar said, I did that when I was a babemoving bright things around to amuse myself."

  "Just show me, my sweet, she said, passing him a coin.

  Safar threw the coin into the corner. While it was still rolling he gestured, made it vanish, gestured again, and it fell into Methydia's still-open hand.

  "What's this? Methydia said, but in disdain, not amazement. You call that magic?"

  She flipped the coin high into the air. Quickly she jabbed a dramatic finger at the deck. Safar's eyes followed. There was the sharp crack! of an explosion. A stream of green smoke bloomed updrawing Safar's eyes with itand the coin appeared to vanish in the cloud. Methydia leaned forward, her face coming so close Safar thought she was about to kiss him. Her lips grazed his, then she drew back, grinning.

  She took his nose between finger and thumb, twisting it gently, once, twice, three times. And each time she twisted a coin dropped to his chest and rolled to the floor. She swept them up, threw them into the air, another crack! a stream of smoke and the three coins became one, which she snatched out of the air.

  "Now, that's magic! she said, holding the coin in one hand and rolling it up and down from finger to finger in one continuous, fluid motion.

  "But you didn't use sorcery at all! Safar protested. I would have felt it if you had."

  Methydia laughed. Then how did I do it?"

  "I don't know, Safar admitted. It must be some kind of trick."

  "But it's a trick that will get a lot more applause than your magic, Methydia said.

  Safar thought he understood. It's the smoke, he said. I can make smoke."

  He gestured at the cabin deck. A thin stream of smoke boiled out of a spot on the plank. He raised his finger slowly and the smoke became a long stream. Then he snapped his fingers and the smoke vanished. Like that? he asked.

  "No, no, Methydia said. It wasn't what I did, but how I did it. You used magic to make the smoke. I used this"

  She opened her hand, displaying a small green pellet. She made a fleshy fold with her thumb, gripping and hiding the pellet in the fold. Then she rolled her hand over, made a graceful gesture with her forefinger and once again there was crack! and green smoke rose up.

  "I used a device, she said, to cause an effect that looked like magic. You used real magic, but so clumsily it looked more like a device. The audience would have guessedwrongly, as it may bethat you had something hidden in your hand. The point is, you would have spoiled it for them."

  "What about the coin part? Safar asked.

  "Same thing, Methydia said. You threw it in a corner. People will think you did that to divert their attention away from the real trick. Whereas I threw it up into the air, where it appeared to remain in plain sight while I worked my other diversions."

  He remembered the jabbing finger that drew his eyes and the near kiss that clouded his view. I think I see what you mean, he said. But you could have used real magic, not fakery, to accomplish the same thing."

  "Not for two shows a day, I couldn't, Methydia said. Plus two and a matinee on Godsday. You have to pace yourself in this business. You need as much energy for the last act of the last show as you did when you started out. In entertainment, my sweet, that's what separates the green from the ripe."

  But Safar was young and stubborn. It seems to me, he said, I did well enough with real magic when I conjured the coin into that little girl's hand. The crowd certainly acted impressed. And they bought out every seat in the tent to prove it."

  "They thought she was a plant, Methydia said. A part of the show. I overheard some of them talking afterwards."

  "Oh."

  "It was the spirit of the trick that impressed them, she said. The poor little waif and her young mother. She smiled at Safar and patted his knee, saying, Even so, I have to give you credit for the idea. It was a certain crowd pleaser and I think we should make it a permanent part of our act."

  Safar was as thrilled as if the praise had come from a master wizard instead of a circus witch.

  "You have good instincts, my sweet, she said. And if you pay close attention to what your Auntie Methydia says, you'll make a marvelous showman."

  ****

  The days that followed were among the most joyful in Safar's life. His heart was as serene as the skies they sailed through. His troubles seemed far offlike the dark storm clouds edging the horizon behind them.

  As a mountain lad he'd spent many a hour perched on high peaks pondering the mysteries of the skies. He'd watched birds wing overhead and dreamed he was flying with them. In Methydia's Cloudship those dreams came true. Although his fellow passengers of the air could be a boisterous lot at time, especially during rehearsals when there was much joking and leg-pulling, at other times they seemed to treasure silence as much as he did. Hours would pass without a sound.

  Each member of the troupe and crew had favorite solitary spots where they could watch the world pass by. Only the occasional hiss of the furnace and pumping of bellows intruded. After a time these faint sounds blended into the song of the winds that carried them above the lands where poor earth-bound creatures dwelled.

  Safar was exhilarated by his new life. He threw all his efforts into soaking up everything Methydia and her troupe could teach him. He learned about trick boxes and trapdoors, smoke and mirrors, and wires so thin they couldn't be seen against a dark background, yet could hold hundreds of pounds suspended above the arena. Methydia helped him work up a mind reading act and he amazed the crowds during intermissions with details of their lives that seemed to be snatched from their thoughts. He used two sharp-eyed and big-eared roustabouts to gather the information before he staged his act.

  Along with the illusions Methydia also added to his store of real magic. He learned subtle spells that enhanced his performance. Some caused a grumpy crowd to feel humor. Others heightened wonder, increased tension or stirred romance in cold hearts. She taught him how to make the magical charms and potions they sold after every performance. Safar added his potter's skills to this job, pinching out marvelous little vials to hold the potions and creating charms made of colorful potsherd necklaces and jewelry.

  He learned how to read a fortune in a palm, instead of casting bones. Methydia said this kind of foretelling was more personal and therefore more accurate than dead bones rattling around and scaring people half to death. Besides palmistry, he was taught how to cast a simple starchart in five minutes, rather than the hours and even days it took Umurhan and his priests.

  "Those scholarly castings are so complicated, so ugly with all their mathematical squiggles, only a rich man would want one, Methydia said. To show he was wealthy enough to hire such a wise dream catcher.

  "But ordinary peoplereal peoplewant to know now, not days from now. And they want to be able to read the chart for themselves so they can hang it over the mantle and show it off to their friends by pointing out the highlights."

  The other members of the troupe also pitched in with his showcraft education. The brawny dwarf, Biner, taught him the delicate art of applying makeup and altering his features so he could play many different kinds of characters. Arlain and Kairo showed him how to do simple acrobatics. They ran him through heart-stopping exercises and plied him with strengthening powders until his muscles vibrated with power. Elgy coached him on timing, getting Rabix to play rhythmic music as Safar performed his acts over and over again u
ntil his delivery was as natural as the mental beat Rabix drummed into his head.

  To Methydia's amazementand his ownSafar's magical powers increased with each passing day. It wasn't a gradual strengthening, like his muscles, but leap after leap from one pinnacle to the next. For the first time since he was a boy he actually enjoyed doing magic. The roar of the audiences swept away the shame his father had accidentally instilled in him. He delighted in their amazement. Especiallyas Biner had said it wouldthe wonderment of the children.

  As he became stronger and more skilled he even started dispensing with some of Methydia's tricks. His illusions became almost entirely magical, although he still used showmanship to sell it, as Methydia would say. True, the performances drained him, just as Methydia predicted. Yet never so much he couldn't deliver as many encores as the crowd desired.

  For a time Methydia kept herself at a slight distance from him. She still teased him and made suggestive jokes that made him blush. But that was her nature. Mainly she behaved like a kindly teacher or mentor, correcting him when he needed it and praising him when he deserved it. Although Safar was powerfully attracted to her, it never occurred to him that she might feel the same. Why, she was old enough to be his mother. Perhaps even older. He ought to be ashamed of himself for thinking of such disrespectful thoughts.

  During that time Safar noticed a small tension building among the troupe and crew, as if they were waiting for something long overdue. Occasionally when he and Methydia were out on the deck togetherrunning through a new twist in the acthe'd noticed people glancing at the two of them. Then there'd be little smiles, whispered asides and shakes of the head.

  Once he overheard the roustabouts wondering aloud if maybe Methydia's lost her sweet tooth. Safar didn't know what that meant. He was doubly mystified when the men saw him and turned away, shamefaced.

  ****

  The dreamlike days ended when they reached Kyshaat.