Aeromancer

by Don Callander

  “I understand,” Douglas said, smiling. “Well and good! Perhaps we should seek an introduction to the Camel Merchant’s wife? Do you see any objection to that course?”

  “In the old Sultan’s day it would have been unthinkable,” the senior Guard considered slowly. “But this Shadizar and her husband are among the younger, less inhibited generation. May I have Officer Frasci show you the Camel Merchant’s home? It is not far away, in the upper part of the city.”

  “I’ll send her a note first, I believe,” Douglas decided. “So as not to intrude on her privacy.”

  Frasci and his superior nodded, pleased by the Wizard’s tact.

  “I’ll be pleased to take your message to Lady Shadizar’s house, if you wish,” volunteered Frasci, after a glance at his superior for approval.

  “A shortish note, then,” decided Douglas, drawing a pad of paper and a pen case from his wide left sleeve. “It’ll take me just a moment.”

  When he’d written the note—

  “My Lady Shadizar, wife of Farrouk the Camel Merchant—

  A friend of Seacaptain Mallet respectfully requests the honor of a short interview at your convenience.

  Douglas Brightglade, Pyromancer of Wizards’ High, Dukedom.”

  —and given it to the younger Guard, the Wizard, the Journeyman, and the Otter accepted an invitation from Captain Aliada to wait in the austere headquarters within the fortress wall until the subordinate returned.

  They sipped sweet iced coffee and talked about the Great War, the struggle with The Darkness, and especially of the Fellowship of Wizards. Douglas outlined the history of the West in the last two centuries while Nearer East had been cut off. Aliada listened carefully.

  “We have had virtually no news of happenings in the West,” Aliada explained. “It’s good to know, now that we will be trading again with your countrymen. I’ve heard a bit of what you’re telling me, of course. The Merchant Princes learned it from Seacaptain Mallet.”

  “I can see how, in your line of work, knowing something of our history would be useful,” Douglas said dryly.

  “Our tasks are to preserve order, of course, and protect his subjects in the name of the reigning Sultan,” the Guard explained. “It’s easier if we know the backgrounds of strangers we must deal with, as you can easily understand.”

  Frasci returned from his errand within the hour, bearing a note to Douglas from Lady Shadizar.

  “My Good Pyromancer Douglas Brightglade,” it said—,

  “Please join me for midday luncheon at my home. It is possible I have more current news of your friend than others in this city. You will be most welcome!

  Shadizar

  Wife of Farrouk and

  Friend of Myrn, you honored wife.”

  “We’ll go, of course,” said the young Pyromancer, rising. “Many thanks for your hospitality and cooperation, Captain Aliada. If I can be of any assistance to you, please call on me at once.”

  Aliada smiled and saluted courteously.

  “Show them the way, Officer Frasci. It has been a great pleasure, Wizard of Fire.”

  Shadizar and her children greeted Douglas in her cool fountain garden.

  “I know you to be Pyromancer Douglas Brightglade, for your Myrn carefully described you to me,” she said, showing him to a seat. “Children, this is Myrn’s husband, the Wizard Brightglade....”

  “Please, call me Douglas, m’lady,” Douglas protested. “And this is Cribblon, a Journeyman Aeromancer.”

  “You will honor us by using our given names, also,” said

  Shadizar. “And this is... don’t tell me! I recall... Marblehead?”

  “Marbleheart, to be sure!” chuckled the sleek, six-foot mammal with a pleased grin.

  Farrouki and Farianah were shy at first, but the Otter soon won them over. He was delighted with the courtyard fountain pool and asked permission to splash in it.

  “The heat here tends to dry my skin terribly,” he explained.

  The children watched in amazement. Then their eyes opened even wider when, after his bath, Marbleheart showed them his Drying Spell.

  “I am, of course, seeking Myrn,” said Douglas to his hostess. “Although I may not assist her or risk forfeiting her Journeying, you understand, I would feel better knowing where she is ...just in case.”

  Shadizar laughed.

  “It’s just as Myrn said!” she told him. “She knew you would not be far behind ... just in case.”

  “I guess I’m pretty obvious,” admitted Douglas, blushing. “But Journeying can be quite dangerous.”

  “But ‘Wizards must learn to fend for themselves,’ ” Shadizar quoted Myrn. “And I have much confidence in your young lady-wife to overcome even the most terrible odds.”

  “Well, I do also,” claimed Douglas. “But... it’s good to be as sure as possible.”

  Shadizar laughed again and signaled to her servants to begin serving luncheon beside the playing fountain, amid the beds of bright poppies and nodding tulips.

  ****

  An hour of swimming lessons whetted their appetites and cemented their growing friendships. Aeasha and her assistants had spread an elaborate picnic lunch on a smoothly flat table-sized rock in the shade of the pavilion. The three swimmers, dried quickly by the desert breezes, sat on soft cushions in the sand to enjoy their meal.

  “Come, eat with us,” the Sultana called to her servants. “We are all children of the desert here! This business of being subservient is carried much too far, I believe. As does my husband Trobuk.”

  The seven of them sat around the smooth, black rock, chattering and telling stories, at which Aeasha, with her hidden sense of humor, was the acknowledged specialist.

  The food was light and refreshing, suited for a very hot day. The beat of the westering sun prompted them to remain at table long after the last sweetmeat was devoured and the last of the iced fruit juices drunk.

  “I must return to the palace,” Nioba said at last. “My husband has asked me to be with him tonight.”

  “I wish to stop at the stables to see if my little filly is well,” decided Myrn, reaching for her clothing. “It has been a most pleasant afternoon and morning, Nioba. You’ve given me much more time than I deserve. I know you’re busy.”

  “Not nearly so busy as I’d like to be,” the Sultana admitted. “I love to be with Trobuk, and we often use these intimate evenings to discuss matters of importance. I will tell him of you, Myrn, if I may.”

  Chatting pleasantly the three ladies and their attendants rode back into the city. Myrn observed the people they met on the road, especially in the crowded evening market near the southern gate of the Sultan’s palace, and decided that Nioba was admired and even loved by her husband’s subjects. While many of the glances that followed their progress were filled merely with curiosity, not a few in the crowds looked on the Sultana with genuine affection, she thought.

  “Do you ride out from the palace often like this?” she asked Nioba.

  “Almost daily.”

  “She’s being much too modest,” Hana interjected. “She attends constantly to the welfare of the poor and has built a healing hospital for all, under her direct supervision.”

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Myrn. “I admire you for that, Highness.”

  Nioba blushed with pleasure and smiled at the Guards at the south gate to her husband’s palace, who saluted courteously with their long pikes as the ladies rode through.

  Myrn left Nioba and the rest of the ladies at the entrance to the hareem, and rode on with the grooms who’d come to lead their mounts to the stables at the rear of the palace compound.

  Here she found Nameless, looking newly bathed, brushed, fit, and rested.

  “I’ve had a most pleasant day,” Myrn told the filly. “I should have arranged for you to join us, my dear. I apologize.”

  Nameless pushed her pink nose into Myrn’s shoulder.

  “Let’s walk about the exercise yard for a while,” Myrn suggested, and th
e filly followed her out into the first shadows of early evening.

  “Have you been treated well?” Myrn asked.

  The horse nodded her head yes.

  “I must now get busy about rescuing our friend Serenit.”

  Nameless shook her head as if to say, Well, of course!

  They enjoyed the cool of evening for a while in silence. The large, sand-floored exercise yard was empty for the moment, as the Sultan’s horses were at that hour being watered and fed. The palace itself was a-hum with voices and the sounds of people at work or play, the smells of evening meals being prepared, the songs of young maids, and the laughter of house-boys busy at various evening tasks.

  “A most pleasant place, considering its size,” Myrn said. The little filly nodded.

  A liveried servant came into the yard and approached them, bowing deeply.

  “Mistress Brightglade?”

  “I am Myrn Brightglade,” answered the Journeyman Aquamancer.

  “My Master’s respects,” said the servant, bowing again. “He prays a moment of your time, if you can spare it to him.”

  ‘Who is your Master?” Myrn asked.

  “Your pardon, Mistress. I serve His Excellency, the Grand Vizier Kalinort.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Myrn. “Well, I suppose his wish is very nearly a command around here. Lead the way.”

  She waved farewell to the little horse, who stood at the gate of the stable yard watching Myrn follow the splendidly dressed servitor through an archway into the palace proper.

  “Through here, please, Mistress,” said the manservant, bowing her ahead of himself through a small door within the archway.

  “The Grand Vizier is within?” Myrn asked, stepping ahead of him into the dark doorway. “I—”

  A heavy blanket was flung over her head and she was swept off her feet by a pair of strong arms. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that Myrn had no chance to cry out or resist.

  “Take her away,” she heard a muffled voice growl nearby. “Carry her to the Stone Trees straightaway.”

  Myrn considered a half-dozen quick spells that would have set her free instantly, but the attack was perhaps her first lead to the missing First Citizen.

  She felt herself being folded over a saddle, and the horse beneath her was led away, hooves clacking on pavement for a short distance.

  Then they passed through a doorway ... archway? ... gateway? ... and the air she breathed through the loosely woven cloth smelled of night-blooming jasmine, frying meat, and hot, freshly baked bread.

  It feels of the outside, somehow, she decided, and she settled down as comfortably as the hard saddle allowed.

  Spelling could wait.

  Nameless caught a glimpse of Myrn’s sudden capture and snorted angrily, but just then a stable hand came by with a halter and a smile.

  “Here alone, little one?” he crooned. “Come ... !”

  And before she could pull away he had slipped a halter loosely over her ears and led her off toward her stall. Nameless shook her head sharply. The halter slipped off and fell to the ground.

  Before the boy could recover, the horse shook free of her blanket, spread her shimmering wings, and snapped them downward, stirring up a whirlwind of sand which blinded the hapless stable lad.

  By the time he’d brushed the painful sand from his eyes and cried out for help, the little horse was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  A Step Behind!

  “A strange young man who says he’s a Fire Wizard has come asking an audience, Sire,” said a Guard Officer to Sultan Trobuk. “We thought it wise to at least tell you of his request.”

  Trobuk waved away his barber, who had just finished trimming the young Sultan’s elegant mustaches and beard.

  “A Fire Wizard? Did he give a name?”

  “He says he is Douglas Brightglade of Wizards’ High in Dukedom,” replied the soldier, bowing again.

  “Dukedom! Ask him to wait a moment longer and send quickly for Captain Mallet. He might know of this Wizard.”

  Mallet arrived somewhat out of breath three minutes later.

  “Douglas? Here? Yes, I know him well, Sire. An old friend, in fact, although I had no idea he was in the Nearer East.”

  “You advise me to see him then?”

  “If you will! He and his friends are well thought of in the West, Sire. He’s very close to our Thornwood Duke ... who would undoubtedly consider it a personal favor if you would receive Douglas Brightglade.”

  “Show him in, then,” Trobuk ordered the Guardsman. “Stay here with me, please, Captain.”

  Douglas entered through the door, followed by four archers with notched arrows and half-drawn bows who watched him very carefully.

  “Hail, Wizard Brightglade!” said the Sultan formally.

  Douglas bowed respectfully, smiled, and nodded to Mallet.

  “This is Douglas Brightglade, the younger Fire Wizard of whom we spoke, Lord Sultan,” the Seacaptain said at once, grinning back at Douglas. “You may recall I spoke of his role in defeating Ice King Frigeon some years ago.”

  “I do recall,” said Trobuk. “Welcome to Samarca, Fire Wizard! It’s a great pleasure to meet you, having heard of your adventures from the good Seacaptain.”

  “I’m flattered, to say the least,” Douglas chuckled, bowing again. “I’m sorry that I’d no chance to warn you of my coming, Your Majesty. I came in a bit of a hurry. We of the Fellowship of Wizards are still engaged in important rescues and repairs arising from the misdeeds of the wicked Ice King.”

  “Ah! That is what our friend Mallet was telling us,” exclaimed Trobuk. “As well as something about a Coven of Witches?”

  “Exactly,” agreed Mallet.

  “Come and sit with us and tell us what we can do to help you in your difficult tasks,” the Sultan cordially suggested, leading the way into his inner parlor. The latticed widows had been thrown wide open and a dry evening breeze blew strongly from the east, billowing the draperies and bringing the clean, hot scent of the desert.

  “Well, sir, I have two tasks at the moment,” Douglas began, accepting a glass of iced fruit juice from a bowing servitor. “I came to Samarca specifically to locate and arrange disenchantment of a certain King Priad and people....”

  “I’ve heard of Priad,” Trobuk said, frowning in thought. “King Priad’s small realm was just south, along our Seacoast. But he and his family disappeared centuries ago! Their land is now empty waste. Its people scattered into High Desert, according to all the old stories.”

  “Priad somehow incurred the wrath—or the fear—of the Ice King,” Douglas explained. “He was enchanted by Frigeon and somehow hidden away. For a number of years since the defeat of Frigeon, our Fellowship has devoted much of its time to tracing down and resolving such wicked, old enchantments.”

  “I was taught we, here in the East weren’t affected by Frigeon’s magics.”

  “As far as we can tell, Frigeon had little time or interest to expend toward this part of World,” Douglas agreed. “In fact, this’s the first time we’ve traced a Frigeonic spell here, which explains why we know so very little about King Priad’s enchanting. Now that Frigeon is defeated and reformed, as Serenit of New Land he finds it difficult to remember the details of his former wickednesses.”

  A disturbance at the door heralded the arrival of a darkly beautiful young woman with shining black hair and a rich brown complexion, attended by a motherly-looking woman of middle years.

  “Ah! My one-wife Nioba! Come in, my beloved, and greet the Wizard Douglas Brightglade.”

  Nioba bowed deeply to her husband, then kissed him before turning to greet Douglas.

  “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Douglas Brightglade,” she said, smiling and returning the young Wizard’s bow. “Your goodwife Myrn and I talked of little else all day long today.”

  “Now I am really flattered,” Douglas said, laughing. “The other part of my mission—if I may call it that, Sultana—here in your land was
to keep a loving eye on my wife on her professional Journeying.” He then explained to the royal couple the importance of Journeying for a Wizardry candidate.

  After Nioba sent off to the hareem for Myrn, Douglas asked permission to present his companions. Cribblon and Marbleheart were admitted to the Sultan’s private apartment, introduced to the Sultan and the Sultana, and warmly welcomed.

  The Sultan asked Marbleheart to sit beside him where he could admire his sleek, soft fur and bright face.

  “Forgive my curiosity, but I don’t think anyone in Samarca has ever seen such a remarkable creature,” he exclaimed.

  “I’m not at all surprised, Sir Sultan,” replied the Otter. “We Sea Otters mainly stay where a fur coat is not such a dratted, hot nuisance. Would you mind terribly if, later on, I slipped into your pool to cool off? Whew!”

  At the Sultana’s request, Cribblon explained his magical specialty, Aeromancy.

  “I’m particularly interested in phenomena and magical properties of the air all about us. And related other gases, of course,” Cribblon said, modestly.

  “You command the winds?” asked Sultana Nioba.

  “More than just that, really, ma’am!” Cribblon said earnestly. “My earliest lessons were in weather—and nullifying noxious airs and directing the flow of winds. Weather is a major concern of an Aeromancer, of course.”

  “What sort of weather can we expect here tomorrow, I wonder,” mused Trobuk aloud.

  “Well,” said Cribblon, screwing up his face, “I can tell you the wind is shifting to the southeast and will shortly bring unwelcome blowing sand and dust upon your beautiful city. But I have to assume you are accustomed to such storms here.”

  “It’s always useful to know when these High Desert storms will hit,” considered the young Sultan. “To have one at this time is rather unusual, as they come most often in the winter months. Every year we lose a few head of sheep and horses or even a poor nomad or two when they’re caught in unexpected sandstorms.”

  As if to underline Cribblon’s storm warning, just then a servant opened the door to the outer room, admitting a hot, turbulent burst of wind. The lamp-flames jumped high and a bank of candles was snuffed at once.