The Feline Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  Finally, the storm of his excitement having passed, Anthony discerned her mood and frowned with concern. “Why has such a marvelous sight only saddened you, my love?”

  Balkis burst into tears and buried her face in his tunic, sobbing out her tension. Sikta looked surprised, then concerned, but as the storm passed, she began to smile with understanding. “You are troubled to realize that your journey together with your Anthony is almost ended, are you not, my dear?”

  It was a better explanation than anything Balkis could have devised herself, and she was astonished to realize there was truth in it. “Even so, good Sikta. These months have been so wonderful that I do not want them to end.”

  “But why should they?” Anthony asked softly. “Why should our journeying together have an end, ever?” Then he kissed her in front of all their chaperones, a kiss that became far longer than he had intended.

  The pilgrims marveled at the sight of the gates of Mara-canda and marveled all over again at the wonders of the city. They were exhausted from their travels, though, and saw only as much as stood between the gates and the hostel to which their guide led them to spend the night. There were basins of water for them to wash, facilities for them to bathe separately—and when the women came back to join the men, Balkis was amazed to discover Matt there, chatting with several of the middle-aged pilgrims.

  He turned as she came up to him, giving her a smile. “Didn't think you could make it through the gates without my finding out, did you?”

  She couldn't help but smile in return. “Of course not.” She glanced at the men. “Let us go aside to talk.”

  “Well, that's what I came for.” Matt lifted a hand in salute. “If you'll excuse us, gentlemen?”

  The pilgrims did, but Balkis could feel their curious eyes on her as she led Matt to a chair at the side of the room. They didn't trust this stranger. She was grateful for their concern, but was very glad the talk was so loud that there was little chance of anyone hearing their conversation.

  “So has he asked you to marry him yet?” Matt teased as they sat down.

  Balkis blushed. “Not quite, but he has come very close.”

  “I hoped you looked receptive,” Matt said. “You'd be surprised how many of us weak-willed men don't want to ask such an intimate question if we think we're going to be rejected.”

  “I gave him as tender a look as I could.” Balkis didn't explain the circumstances. She leaned closer to say, “But I am worried, Lord Wizard. I fear I may not wait for him to propose.”

  “Bad idea,” Matt said promptly. “Very bad, in a medieval culture. Wait. Make it a quick wedding if you have to, but wait for it.”

  “I… I may not be able to stand against the tide of my own desire.” Balkis gave him a pleading look. “You know how such feelings may overwhelm a cat.”

  “Then stay in human form.”

  “But there is enough of the cat in me now that… well… to be blunt, Lord Wizard, I fear I am in heat, and more and more deeply with every passing day!” She lowered her gaze. “Sometimes I think that I cannot bear it, that I… should perhaps … should… give in.”

  “No you shouldn't,” Matt said firmly. “Besides, even if you wanted to, you'd have to seduce Anthony—he has you on a bit of a pedestal.”

  Balkis grimaced, looking away. “Then pedestals are quite uncomfortable.”

  “Yeah, and kinda windy,” Matt sympathized. “Still, it's not quite the animal lust you seem to think it. Odds are the only reason you're feeling this way is because you're in love.”

  “Yes … I think so …” Balkis looked up at Matt beseechingly. “What if he should not propose, though? What if we should not marry?”

  Matt studied her for a few seconds, then said gently, “I think the real problem is that, way down deep, you don't want to miss the chance of learning physical intimacy when you're in love.”

  Balkis lowered her gaze, blushing, but only repeated, “What if he should not wish to marry? What if he should leave? Do I still wish to be a virgin when he does?”

  “From all the women I've seen in your predicament who gave in,” Matt said, “the answer is definitely that if you're still a virgin when he goes, it hurts less.” He laid a hand over hers. “Don't worry, lady—if he's as deeply in love as I think he is, there's no way he'll leave.”

  She blushed and looked up at him with gratitude. “You are right, of course. I only fear what may happen when he learns I am a princess.”

  “Just tell him you'll give it all up to live in a cottage with him,” Matt advised.

  Balkis stared at him in shock, then realized his meaning and laughed with pure joy. “Of course! It matters not what I am now, does it? It is how I grew up that affects him!” She reached up to give Matt a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Lord Wizard! Oh, thank you, thank you!” She leaped up. “I must go to find him now! I shall tell him all straightaway!”

  Matt almost stopped her, almost told her it might not be the wisest course, then realized she had to do it while her courage was up. “Right. Go find him.”

  Balkis ran off among the crowd, twisting and turning and seeking.

  Matt relaxed with a sigh and thought gratefully of his wife. He'd forgotten how wearing the angst of the search for love could be.

  Then Balkis was back, was running up to him with tears in her eyes. “Lord Wizard! He is gone, he is fled!” She collapsed beside him, her face on his knees, sobbing. “He has gone out into the streets of Maracanda, alone and without a guide! Sikta saw him go, and what will happen to him alone among those sharks and thugs who are ready to prey on any they find?”

  Matt just held onto her and wondered if it was really as bad as she thought, then admitted to himself that it probably was—a country boy in the big city was always at something of a disadvantage. “Let's go,” he said. “You can change into a tabby right outside the door. You take the back alleys and I'll take the bazaar.” He tilted her chin up and smiled as reassuringly as he could. “Don't worry—it's too late for him to get out. They closed the gates half an hour ago.”

  “It was not the predators outside the gates that worried me,” she told him.

  Matt didn't have to search very long. Anthony was right there in the bazaar, haggling at a goldsmith's booth.

  “You know this nugget isn't gold, don't you?” the goldsmith was asking.

  “I know very well that it is true gold.” Anthony gave the man a hard smile. “Still, I did not ask you what it was—I only asked you to make it into a ring, and to cut and polish this stone to mount on it.”

  The goldsmith looked at the dull white pebble in his palm. “I suppose you think that scrap of quartz is a diamond.”

  “No matter what it is, it is what I want in the ring. How much will you charge to make it?”

  “Two silvers.”

  “I have no coins.” Anthony held up a small blue stone. “Will this do?”

  The goldsmith glanced at the stone, then looked again, his eyes hot with avarice, but he said only, “It is very small.”

  Matt decided it was time to step in. “Very small, and completely unnecessary,” he said, stepping up beside Anthony. “The gold that's left over from the nugget and the chips of the diamond will be more than enough payment.”

  Anthony looked up in surprise. “Lord Wizard! How come you to be here?”

  The goldsmith stared at Matt, then looked away, tidying up his counter with nervous glances at the new customer.

  “A wizard always has to keep an eye on the bazaar to see if any exotic substances show up,” Matt said. “For example, I'm running low on cinnabar at the moment.”

  The goldsmith looked up with chagrin. “I do not deal in that ore, I fear, Lord Wizard.”

  “No, but one of your neighbors does.” Matt picked up the nugget and gave it a close inspection. “The young man's right—that's gold, sure enough. I'm sure you just don't recognize it because it's in such a raw state. Don't you think so, goldsmith?”

  “Belike, belike,�
�� the man muttered.

  “Then the leftovers will surely be enough payment.” Matt looked up at Anthony. “You want it nice and wide, don't you?”

  “Not terribly.” Anthony gave him a bashful smile. “It is for a lady, after all—if she will have it.”

  “And you with it, of course.” Matt gave him a grin. “A ring that size wouldn't take more than half the gold. I think the rest is more than enough payment.”

  The goldsmith gathered courage to bargain a little more. “Once I have smelted it—”

  “You'll still have twice as much as you need for such a little ring,” Matt said. “And no more than one-tenth copper in it, mind you!”

  The goldsmith frowned. “That will make it very soft, my lord.”

  “Hard enough,” Matt told him, “and so am I.” He turned back to Anthony. “Any more shopping to do, or shall we have a sherbet together and go back to die hostel?”

  “I would delight in your hospitality.” Anthony said. “I did want to see what other baubles this street has to offer, though.”

  “Well, you go explore a few of the other booths while I have a word with this goldsmith, okay? He might have one or two items I'm needing.”

  “A good thought,” Anthony said brightly and drifted off to another booth.

  The goldsmith, reassured by Mart's pleasant demeanor, asked, “What do you wish, Lord Wizard?”

  “A little honesty.” Matt fixed him with a very stern eye. “When that ring is ready, the stone had better be real diamond, and the gold had better be true—or do you think I can't tell brass and quartz when I see them?”

  “I—I am sure you can, my lord!” the goldsmith stammered. “I have heard the tale of your magicks that saved this city, have seen you riding beside the emperor! I would never doubt you!” He frowned. “But I had heard you had gone back to your own country.”

  “I did, but I came back for a visit,” Matt told him. “I'm likely to do that, from time to time. I can find ingredients for magic potions here that I never find in the West—but I only deal with honest merchants. You are honest, aren't you?”

  “The very soul of honesty, my lord,” the goldsmith said fervently.

  Balkis was already back at the hostel, pacing and wringing her hands, when Matt came in the door with Anthony.

  “Anthony!” Balkis rushed into his arms. “Oh, I so feared for you, my love!”

  “Feared for me? Why?” Anthony asked, his arms tight about her. “Surely you know I can take care of myself!”

  “Hey, did you worry about her safety in your home mountains?” Matt asked.

  “Well, of course, but there are fearsome beasts there.”

  “We have some pretty merciless predators here, too,” Matt told him. “The big thing, though, is that you're always at a disadvantage in strange territory. Just reassure the lady and take her in to dinner, will you?”

  After the meal, though, the pilgrims started swapping stories again, and Anthony became interested. Matt was able to take Balkis aside.

  “Lord Wizard, where was he?” Balkis demanded.

  “In the bazaar, trying to trade a gemstone.” It wasn't really a lie, and it did preserve the secret of the ring. Gravely, he asked, “Balkis, how did Anthony come to have a gold nugget and a jewel in his pockets?”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “The gold he took from a valley where giant ants mine the stuff, and people who live in fortresses by day collect the nuggets at night. Greed is his one fault, and because he kept some of the gold, one ant followed us for months. It might have slain us, but as good luck was with us, it slew instead a lion who was trying to kill Anthony.”

  Matt gave a low whistle. “And the lion squashed the ant, huh? But where did he get the gems?”

  “From the banks of the river Physon, which we navigated underground with only torchlight to guide us. Our friend Panyat showed us the way. I bade Anthony not to burden himself, but he could not bear to leave without at least a handful of stones.”

  “I can understand that, at least.” Matt nodded. “Gold that was apt to draw retribution, no, that was stupid—but a handful of gems wasn't going to slow him down any, and could last him the rest of his life.” He fairly beamed at her. “I'm very glad to find out he came by them honestly.”

  “Did you think my Anthony a thief?” Balkis asked, her anger returning. “Never! He is the soul of honesty and loyalty! Never would I question him! Save, of course, in the matter of that one flaw: greed.”

  “I'm glad to learn it hasn't undermined his honesty,” Matt said. “It has broken the integrity of many good men before now, Balkis.” He gave her a sly smile. “The boy just might be worthy of you, after all.”

  “I should think he is!” Balkis said indignantly, then turned shy. “But Lord Wizard—do you think I am worthy of him?”

  “Definitely!” Matt said. “You don't know what a gem you are, cottage girl!”

  She frowned at him. “I am a princess now, sir.”

  “Yes, and doing a very good job of it, too,” Matt agreed, “and if you can, so can Anthony”

  The next morning, they woke to find the pilgrims all astir, milling about in the yard of the hostel. They went out to join their friends, Anthony asking, “What is the cause of your excitement, good Sikta?”

  “Today we go to the palace!” the matron exclaimed. “Will it not be wondrous, Anthony—to see the grand home of Prester John himself?”

  “It will indeed!” Anthony's eyes were shining. “Will it not be a delight, Balkis?”

  “It will indeed, Anthony,” she said faintly.

  They came out of a boulevard into a great open plaza and saw the palace rising above a high wall. Directly before them was a huge portal closed by two massive, pale gates with the sheen of polished stone, inlaid with geometric patterns in a translucent yellowish material. The pilgrims milled about, discussing the sight with one another in tones of excitement. Then a trumpet blew and they fell silent, all eyes turning toward the gateway.

  Drums began to beat and soldiers filed out of the palace. They formed into four ranks and marched toward the pilgrims, shifting their weapons from side to side at the calls of a sergeant. The pilgrims murmured in awe, for such drill was unknown anywhere else in the world. It made a brave spectacle indeed.

  The soldiers marched up to them, stamped to a halt, then opened an aisle in their center, down which came a man who strutted with self-importance. He wore a brocaded gown and hat embroidered in gold. As he came, the sergeant bawled orders again, and the soldiers wheeled to the sides, files lining end-to-end until they formed a broad avenue down which the pilgrims could march.

  Balkis hid a smile. She had never seen this display before but could tell it was calculated to awe and entertain the pilgrims—and, without their realizing it, to contain them in case any wished to make trouble. She thought she detected Matthew's hand in this.

  The courtier came to a halt in front of the band and gave them a condescending smile. “Good morning, good pilgrims! I am Hajik, and I shall guide you through such of the palace as the public may see! If you have questions, I shall answer as many as I may.”

  The pilgrims murmured to one another, but none asked any questions, though each had a dozen clogging his throat.

  “The square in which you stand,” said Hajik, “is where our glorious emperor witnesses the judicial contests of trial by combat: It is paved with onyx in order that the courage of the fighters may be increased by the virtue of the stone.”

  Balkis shuddered. “Horrid custom!”

  “It is indeed,” Anthony agreed, low-voiced. “We must find a better way to decide which is the worthier case.”

  Balkis looked up at him in surprise; he spoke with the sound of a man who had pondered the issue. She had not expected Anthony to have given any thought to such matters.

  “These great gates before you are made of sardonyx inlaid with the horn of the serpent called ‘cerastes,’ so that no one may enter with poison.”

  The pilgr
ims murmured, suitably impressed.

  “So if any of you come with poison about you,” the courtier said with a twinkle in his eye, “you were best to leave it on the ground!”

  The pilgrims gazed at him in shock. Then one or two realized that he spoke in jest and managed a weak laugh. Hearing them, the rest of the company joined in, halfheartedly but relieved.

  “Come in, then, come in!” Hajik stepped to the side, spreading an arm toward the sardonyx gates. “The emperor invites you!”

  He stepped aside and the pilgrims surged forward with cries of delight and awe, scarcely noticing that the soldiers closed in to their sides and their rear, shepherding them and making sure none went running off to investigate on his or her own.

  Exclaiming to one another, the pilgrims came through the twelve-foot-high portal and saw vast lawns stretching away to the distant castle.

  “How awe-inspiring, how huge!” one of the pilgrims exclaimed.

  “It is indeed,” said another, “but why should the emperor need veritable fields within his walls? Why, you could drill an army in here!”

  “He probably does, neighbor,” a third man said. “He probably does.”

  Anthony looked the question at Balkis. Eyes twinkling, she nodded.

  “If the city were invaded,” said another thoughtful pilgrim, “he could house half his people here, in tents and such.”

  “All his people, actually,” Balkis confided to Anthony.

  He grinned down at her, then turned away to regard the palace itself. Soldiers herded straying pilgrims onto the flags of the broad paved apron before the palace. Gradually all of them came there to stare at the graceful building.

  “The emperor's palace is patterned after the heavenly mansion St. Thomas constructed for the Hindu King Gundafor,” Hajik explained. “The king appointed the apostle to build him an earthly palace, but St. Thomas gave the money to the poor instead. When the king indicted him for it, St. Thomas replied that he had used the gold to build the king a palace in Heaven. Soon after, King Gundafor fell into a deathlike sleep and was transported to Heaven, where he gazed upon a palace much like this, only grander and even more magnificent. An angel told him it was the castle St. Thomas had built for him by his charity to the poor, then sent the king back to the world of the living, to be baptized as an example to all his people.”