When the Gods Slept

by Allan Cole

  But the Cloudship was no more.

  And he had made a promise to Methydia.

  Safar steeled his nerve and said as firmly as he could: "I accept."

  * * *

  That night Iraj called his court into session. There was a small ceremony to proclaim Safar Grand Wazier.

  The faces of the king’s officers and courtiers were all blur to Safar. He could pick out only a few. Some were friendly. Some were not. Mostly, there were only looks of curiosity and awe.

  Who was this man who had been lifted so high, so quickly?

  Did his presence bode ill, or fair?

  * * *

  Late in the night Safar dreamed that Methydia came to him.

  In his dream he felt soft hands caressing him. He opened his eyes and saw Methydia’s face and Methydia’s slender body poised over him. He cried out her name and crushed to her to him. They made love, a floaty love like they were aboard the Cloudship once again. Then the Cloudship burst into flames, plunging for the earth and they clasped one another, riding the fire in an endless fall.

  When he awoke in the morning Safar found Leiria snuggled in the crook of his arm, smiling in her sleep.

  Feeling like a traitor, he gently tried to extract his arm. But Leiria came awake, purring and sloe-eyed and clutching him closer.

  He untangled her politely, but firmly. "I have duties to attend to," he said.

  At first Leiria pouted, then she giggled and got up, saying, "I mustn’t be selfish and take all your strength, my lord."

  Safar managed a faint smile for an answer.

  She starting pulling on clothes. "You called out another woman’s name in the night," she said. Her tones were light, but Safar could sense hurt in them. "Was she the one who died?"

  "Yes," Safar answered softly.

  Leiria shrugged. "I don’t mind," she said. "It’s good that your heart is faithful." She had her head down, concentrating hard on buckling on her weapons. "The king has ordered me to comfort you and guard you with my life."

  She raised her head and Safar saw tears in her eyes. "The king orders," she said, "but I do it gladly. I will guard you and I will be this other woman for you for as long as you like.

  "And perhaps someday it will be my name you speak instead of... hers."

  Safar didn’t know what to say. From the look on her face a word either way might cause a flood of tears. She would despise him for humiliating her.

  So all he said was, "You honor me, Leiria."

  Weak as that reply was, she seemed to find satisfaction in it. She nodded, finished her dressing, then kissed him - a quick peck on the cheek - and left.

  Safar looked after her wondering how much was artifice and how much was truly meant.

  And how much would she tell Iraj?

  * * *

  It wasn’t long before Safar had a chance to test those questions. He’d barely had time to snatch a quick meal and don his clothes before Iraj summoned him.

  Leiria was his guide and guard as he made his hasty way into the king’s presence. She gave no hint of the night they’d had together. Her bearing was professional and military, her manner courteous and respectful.

  When they came to the king’s rooms he didn’t have to undergo the usual search for weapons and was instantly swept inside. Iraj was seated in a simple camp chair, maps and charts spread out on a small table in front of him.

  When he saw Safar he said, "It seems my little gift to you has caused all sorts of trouble, my friend."

  Safar forced himself not to look at Leiria. "Whatever do you mean, Iraj?" he asked.

  Iraj tapped one of the maps. "I’m planning our next campaign," he said, to Safar’s immense relief. "Winter is coming on and there isn’t much time."

  "What’s the problem?" Safar asked. "And how was I the cause of it?"

  "Sampitay is the problem," Iraj answered. "Now that I’ve given it back to its people, as you requested, I’ll have those same people at my back when we march again."

  "What makes you think they’ll be a danger to you?" Safar asked.

  "What makes you think they won’t?" was Iraj’s reply, eyes narrowing.

  "Aren’t you going to garrison the city," Safar asked "and put one of your own men in charge?"

  "Garrisons are trebly expensive," Iraj said. "They cost money, soldiers, and good officers to run them."

  "Yesterday," Safar said, "I offered reasons for my request. You kindly chose not to hear. I’d like to offer them again."

  Iraj nodded. "Go ahead," he said.

  "Sampitay is one of the richest cities in Esmir," Safar pointed out. "The source of its wealth, as you know, is silk. But it takes highly skilled people to produce that silk - skills few others in world possess outside Sampitay.

  "So the people are worth more to you alive and free than dead or enslaved. Think of all the gold they’ll pay in taxes. Gold you can use to wage your campaign.

  "As for the soldiers necessary to garrison the city, why not enlist an equal number of Sampitay soldiers to take their place? You can them train in your ways easily enough.

  "Finally, you must have many young officers who ache for more responsibility and promotion. They can replace the senior officers you leave behind to command the garrison to keep the peace and make certain your taxes are collected."

  Iraj considered, then said, "I admit I’m in sore need of money. They don’t tell you in the histories of warfare how much it costs to wage those wars.

  "Thus far I’ve used plunder and the paltry taxes I’m able to collect from the cities now under my rule. Unfortunately, plunder tends to go more into the pockets of my soldiers than mine. They expect it and it is their right.

  "As for the taxes, the rulers who have allied themselves to me are always whining they are hard pressed to pay what I ask. I don’t have time to go back and give them a real reason for their moaning and so they’ve been cheating me without mercy."

  "Then garrison them all in the manner I suggested for Sampitay," Safar said.

  "What? And use their soldiers as well to replace my own?"

  "What’s wrong with that?" Safar asked.

  "Up until now," Iraj said, "I’ve only used men from my native plains."

  "That was certainly a wise policy when you started out," Safar said. "But if you are to be King of Kings, the true ruler of all Esmir, you must look for loyalty in the hearts of all your subjects, not just in the men of the plains.

  "And that, my friend, is the best reason of all to end this policy of slaughter. Besides, you told me yourself you disliked all that bloodshed. Perhaps this reluctance really wasn’t due to some weakness you inherited from your father. Perhaps it was in the back of your mind that a new way had to be found to rule the kind of kingdom that was once Alisarrian’s.

  "And all I’ve done was to put words to ideas that were there all along."

  Iraj thought for a time, then said, "I’ll do as you suggest," he said. "Starting with Sampitay."

  He motioned to the maps. "It’ll make this job much easier, that’s for certain. Before winter sets in I’ll have the whole south under my rule. And in the spring..." he traced a line across the God’s Divide... "we’ll take on the north, crossing at Kyrania just as Alisarrian did."

  He sagged back in his chair, weary. "I’ll have to fight my way all the way to the sea," he said. "I wonder how many years it will take. And if I’ll live long enough to see it."

  "You will," Safar said.

  Iraj smiled, remembering. "That’s right. We saw each other in that vision, didn’t we? The demons under our boots as we marched on the gates of Zanzair."

  "I remember," Safar said.

  Iraj was silent for a moment, then he asked, "Do you think of the demons often? When we faced them together in the pass?"

  "It’s my least favorite nightmare," Safar said.

  "Do you think Coralean was right? And they were just a group of bandits who strayed into the humanlands?"

  "I’ve seen no evidence pointing eithe
r way," Safar said. "I combed the libraries in Walaria to find some historical precedence." He shook his head. "There wasn’t any. However, many strange things have happened since that time. Droughts and plagues and wars."

  Iraj made a rueful grin. "Well, we know where the wars came from," he said. He tapped his chest to indicate himself. "As for the other things, they could be naturally caused."

  "I don’t think so," Safar said. He told him of his investigations into Hadin. And he told him of the sorcerous worm he encountered in Kyshaat.

  When he was done, Iraj said, "I’ve thought of that night on the mountain many times. And of your vision afterwards. I’m no seer like yourself, my friend. But I’ll tell you what I think it was all about.

  "Perhaps something did happen in far off Hadin. Personally, I think it was a sign from the heavens. A sign that fits perfectly into your other visions about me and Alisarrian.

  "I truly believe the world is at a crossroads. In one direction lies disaster, although what that disaster entails I cannot say. In the other, hope and a bright future."

  Again he tapped his chest. "And I am that hope and future. Once I succeed, all will be set right again."

  "I pray you’re right," Safar said. "I plan to do all in my powers to see you have the chance to prove it."

  Iraj laughed. "Well said, my brother. Together we will conquer all. Nothing can stand in our way."

  Safar’s answer was a smile. But he was thinking, there’s still the demons, Iraj. There’s still the demons.

  * * *

  The following day Safar made his farewells to the circus. He plumped a bag of gold into Biner’s hand. It was so heavy it caught the muscular dwarf by surprise and he nearly dropped it.

  "What’s this?" Biner asked.

  "The price of a century’s worth of tickets," Safar said, smiling. "I’m hoping you’ll always save a place for me."

  "We thirtainly will," Arlain said, dabbing at a tear with a kerchief.

  "Won’t be much of a circus," Biner said, "without Methydia and the Cloudship."

  "I wish I could bring them back," Safar said. "The gold is all I can do."

  "We’ll make the best damn circus we can," Biner said. "We’ll make you proud of us."

  "I already am," Safar said. "And for the rest of my life I’ll remember the months I was with you."

  "You’re a rich man, now," Biner said. "A powerful man. But if you should ever need us..." Emotion overcame him and he turned to honk his nose into a rag. When he’d recovered, he said, "Hells, you know what I mean!"

  "Sure I do," Safar said, wiping at his own tears.

  Then he embraced them all one by one.

  When he was done he rushed off before he weakened and slipped away with them in the night.

  * * *

  The next time Leiria came to his bed he nearly refused her. In the end it seemed easier to accept her embrace than send her away. She was an ardent lover, a skilled lover. He never again called out Methydia’s name, although it was Methydia he thought of. He didn’t know what to make of Leiria. Was she truly smitten? Or was she Iraj’s spy? She never gave a sign either way. At night she was fire in his arms, by day the cool professional, measuring any man who approached him for signs of ill intent.

  Because of his doubts he waited several nights before he delved into a most important task. Then he gave her a difficult errand that would take much time to accomplish.

  When she was gone he drew out the stone turtle and summoned Gundara.

  The little Favorite was still extremely weak and couldn’t take full form. Safar could see the tent walls through his wispy figure.

  "I hope you don’t have anything hard you want to do, master," Gundara whined. "I’m not feeling very well, you know."

  "I have a treat for you," Safar said, offering Gundara a sweet he’d saved from the dinner table.

  Listlessly, Gundara took it from his hand. He licked at the sugar, then sighed and let the sweet fall to the ground.

  "Doesn’t taste as good as it used to," he complained.

  "I’ve never had a chance to thank you for the warning that night," Safar said.

  Gundara made another deep sigh. "I almost couldn’t get out of the stone," he said. "Gundaree pushed and pushed as hard as he could. It nearly killed us both."

  "I’m sorry for that," Safar said. "Still, you saved my life."

  Gundara shrugged. "I just hope I don’t have to do it again real soon."

  "So do I," Safar said. "But what about now? Am I in the presence of enemies?"

  "Assuredly, master," Gundara said. "There are enemies all around you. So many I can’t single anyone out in particular. Right now they seem afraid to do more than hate you. My advice, master, is to be as careful as you can."

  "What about Iraj?" Safar asked. "What about the king? Is he my enemy?"

  "No," the Favorite answered. "But he’s a danger to you. All kings are. Beware of kings, master, is the best advice I can give you."

  "And what of the woman Leiria?" Safar asked. "Does she mean well, or ill?"

  "I’m too weak and her thoughts too confusing to say, master," Gundara answered. "When she’s with you, she adores you. But when she’s near the king, she adores him. All I can tell you is don’t trust her... and keep her close."

  Safar hid his disappointment. He’d hoped to get more from the little Favorite.

  "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked. "Anything at all to speed your recovery?"

  "Rest, master," Gundara said. "That’s all we need and that’s all that can be done. We’ll be better by and by."

  Safar thought, "by and by" could mean a hundred years to a Favorite. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

  He started to make a motion to send Gundara back into the stone.

  "Wait, master," Gundara said. "I almost forgot something."

  The Favorite made a gesture and a small object appeared in his hand. He gestured again and the object plopped into Safar’s palm, growing before his eyes.

  It was a thin, battered old book bound in leather.

  "Nerisa and I stole this from Umurhan’s library," Gundara said. "She gave it to me to hold for you."

  Safar looked closer. He caught his breath. On the cover, in worn gold leaf, was a familiar symbol.

  "It’s Lord Asper’s book," Gundara said. "The one you were looking for." Then he vanished into the stone.

  Fingers trembling, Safar opened the book. It took him a few moments to translate the scratchings. Then the words jumped out as if they were alive:

  "Long, long have I bewailed this world.

  Long, long have I mourned our fates.

  Swords unsheathed, banners unfurled,

  Charge the ramparts fired with hate.

  ‘Slay the humans!’ we all cried.

  ‘Drive the devils from our lands!’

  I shouted the loudest, but I shouted a lie.

  I feared to tell them all were damned!

  Demon and human from a single womb,

  Bound for Hadin where once I spied

  A common death and a common tomb..."

  Safar grunted in frustration. Insects had destroyed the rest of the page.

  He flipped the leaves. A few were damaged, most were not, but the rest of the book seemed to consist of magical formulas and scribbled notes, with other bits of poetry here and there. It would take much time to decipher the demon wizard’s formulas and notes. But at least he’d finally found something - or someone - to point the way.

  He thought of Nerisa. Actually, she’d never been far from his mind. Not a day passed when her face, with its huge sad eyes and crooked little grin, didn’t rise up to haunt him. He smiled, thinking this book - Asper’s book - was her final gift to him.

  Outside his room he heard Leiria approach. He put the book away.

  Poor Leiria, he thought. Two dead women for rivals, instead of one.

  The army marched a week later, Iraj at its head and Safar at his side. Sampitay’s citizens turned out for the marc
h, lining the main road and shouting praises and well wishes to the Good King Protarus.

  Not long after another city fell, adding to the jewels in his crown. Iraj dealt with this city like Sampitay, following Safar’s advice on the treatment of its citizens and the manner of government. A month went by, a month filled with conquests. Some were bloody, some were not.

  Then winter came and Iraj’s army took up camp. There was plenty of fuel for fire and plenty of food and drink. Messengers came and went, caravans crept over the snow, carrying gold from the tax gatherers to fill Iraj’s treasure house.

  But the king was moody, pacing the grounds and staring out across the distance at the Gods’ Divide, cursing all the cold days that remained until spring.

  And he swore to his friend and Grand Wazier, Lord Safar Timura, that he would march for the mountains when the first green buds burst from the ground.

  * * *

  Part Four

  The Demon Wars

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty One

  The Invasion Begins

  It was the largest military gathering in the history of Esmir.

  A demon army - half-a-million strong - formed up along the edges of the Forbidden Desert, armor glowing in the pale spring sun. It looked like an enormous dragon with glittering scales and outstretched wings, poised to take flight to ravage the human lands. Whole forests of spears, pikes and archers formed its body. Huge baggage trains of arms and supplies made its tail. Trumpeting elephants and snarling cavalry mounts, mixed with the rattle of weapons and the shrieks of campfollowers gave it a voice.

  Forming its head were ten thousand mounted troops, commanded by Crown Prince Luka.

  It was an elite force, composed of the finest young demons in the land. All were of noble blood and all were anxious to shed that blood for Gods and King. They’d been whipped into a fighting frenzy and were impatient for the signal launching them across the desert. They grumbled loudly at any and all delays, gnashing their fangs and casting anxious yellow eyes at their adored Crown Prince, who was at the moment conferring with his father, King Manacia, and his Chief Wazier, Lord Fari,