by Allan Cole
Children played, lovers swooned, mothers and fathers enjoyed many stolen moments alone, as did the grandparents. At night those who could make music made it and everyone danced and sang away their troubles.
It was a grand holiday for one and all-except Safar, who disappeared for several days of intense conferences with the Queen and the top Caluzian priests and scholars. His absence only made everyone's mood lighter. For a short time they could forget about Iraj Protarus, prophecies of a doomed world and their desperate journey to far off Syrapis. Safar was dealing with such things. And when he decided what they should do next he'd come and tell them. Who could say when that would be? So let's enjoy life, grab what we can from it for the dark days will return soon enough.
Yet there was a ragged edge to their joy. Snatched as they were from a place where fear had become ordinary, the Kyranians went about their pleasures at a frantic pace. Leaping from one activity to another.
Always glancing over their shoulders, waiting for the predestined shadow to fall.
Only Palimak and Leiria were unaffected. Only they saw the mirror cracks in the perfection that was Caluz. Leiria because she was a soldier and had a soldier's healthy suspicion of all things. Palimak because he was a newly serious boy, a self-appointed wizard's apprentice to his father, whom he was worried would leave him out of the main action. Whatever that was going to be.
One evening while they were walking together along the river looking for a likely fishing spot they came upon a small park with a dozen or more Caluzians-both human and demon. Some were taking the air alone, some in company, and there were several family groups with children or kits.
As soon as they saw the two Kyranians they all rushed over to bow and smile and murmur greetings.
Saying, "How is the Lady Leiria this evening?" Or, "Does the Young Lord Timura find himself well, we pray?" And "May the blessings of Lady Felakia be with you!"
As they spoke they spontaneously handed the two little gifts, a bracelet or necklace for Leiria hastily stripped off by the owner, a small top or a ball for Palimak, willingly given by smiling children. Leiria and Palimak made polite replies and tried to fend off the gifts but it was no use, so they stuffed them in their pockets, thanking everyone and grinning until their jaws ached.
A moment later the Caluzians all chorused farewells and trooped off, pleasant laughter trailing in their wake.
Leiria looked about the empty park. "They certainly left in a hurry," she said. "I feel like we brought something odorous to a party."
Palimak snorted. "They're just so nice they make me sick!" he said. "But they never really want to talk to you. Or play with you. They just say, 'How are you, Young Lord Timura?' And 'May the gods be kind to you!' Things like that, but soon as you try to say something back they pretend they're busy, or going someplace in a hurry, and run away."
"I thought I was the only one to notice that," Leiria said. "I went into the city the other day and you should have seen the fuss everyone made over me. Then they suddenly melted away and all of sudden the street was empty and people were closing their doors and shutters.
"The same thing happened when I went into a tavern to get a drink and some company. At first they were all my friends, buying me drinks and welcoming me to Caluz. Next thing I knew the tavern was empty and the innkeeper was making excuses about having to close up early."
"What's wrong with them, Aunt Leiria?" Palimak asked.
"I don't know, my dear," she answered. Then, thinking she might be neglecting her auntly duties, she tried to sound more kindly. "Maybe they're all just very frightened and trying to put a brave face on things. The gods know they have a right to their fears. From what your father said they're under some curse and don't have much longer to live, unless he helps them."
"Maybe…" Palimak said doubtfully. He thought a minute then said, "What if they have to be really nice and happy all the time because that's the way the machine wants it? What if they don't have any choice?"
He waved at the idyllic scene around them, taking in twittering birds and flitting butterflies. "Look at it, Aunt Leiria!" he said. " Everything's too nice! It's not natural. It has to be the machine!"
Reflexively, Leiria turned to look upstream at the great stone turtle squatting over the place where the rivers joined. Water poured out its mouth, thundering into the wide basin below, sending up a mist laced with many rainbows.
For a moment she thought she saw something. A flicker of another scene laid on top of this idyllic vision, but black like a shadow cast. In this, the turtle god was the size of a mountain with lighting crackling on its back. And instead of water pouring from its mouth, there was a river of fire. Then the vision vanished and all was the same again.
At first she thought she was imagining things, but then Palimak said, "Did you see it, Aunt Leiria?" His voice was excited with just a touch of fear. "Did you see it?"
"Yes," she said, almost in a whisper. "I saw!"
High above in Queen Hantilia's silver palace Safar was having his own problems.
He paced the lush waiting area outside the Queen's courtroom, a little red-robed serving maid trotting behind him with a silver decanter of wine to fill the glass he clutched in his hand. Behind the closed doors he could hear the low murmur of the Queen's aides, discussing his request. A request he had made three days before and still had no answer.
His mind was buzzing with all manner of questions and half-formed conclusions. Many of them quite similar to Leiria's and Palimak's.
Yes, the Queen and her subjects were strange, yes, the wonderland spells emanating from the Temple of Hadin were too good to be trusted, and, yes, the citizens of Caluz faced eventual doom from the machine and had every reason to be frightened in the extreme, but somehow they spent their days with pleasant smiles pasted on their faces as if life could be no sweeter.
Safar paused at the window, which looked out over the Temple of Hadin. If he could have seen far enough he might have spotted Palimak and Leiria strolling along the path by the river. He sipped his wine, thinking, piling still more questions on his plate.
For instance, there was the matter of the twin Caluzes-one good, one evil-which made things complicated to the extreme. When he'd queried the Queen's wizards and scholars about the phenomenon, they became blank-faced, uncomprehending. Their own situation was too complex to fathom, much less factor in such minor things as the cause of it all. Their main worry was that Safar would refuse, or be unable to help them. So they coated every difficulty with such a sweet layer of honey Safar came to doubt most of what they said.
In the courtroom there was a hush as the Queen spoke and Safar turned his head to listen. But her voice was so low it was swallowed by the thick silver doors that closed off the chamber.
Safar let the serving maid refill his cup, giving her an absent smile by way of thanks.
Hantilia was as serene as her subjects, he thought, but seemed more willing to speak her mind. Her magical resources were great, so she wasn't quite as affected as the others by the dream-spinning machine. Possibly it was because she was spinning so many of her own-and all were aimed directly at Safar. It was an innocent thing, an unconscious thing, or so he supposed. Although she was a demon and he was human, she found him attractive and was sending out many signals and spells that made her alluring. How he should or would react remained to be seen.
He pushed all this aside for another time-if there ever was to be such a time. There was urgent business to attend to before he began to plumb this and the other mysteries of the odd mirror worlds that made Caluz.
Safar resumed his pacing. He'd rarely been so frustrated. He'd expected to be rushed off to the temple immediately where he would consult with the Oracle he'd come so far to see. The queen said the Oracle of Hadin and all her people had been waiting for his arrival, so one would think they'd be just as anxious for the foretold visit to begin. Except there was apparently more to consulting the Oracle than just marching into the temple and announcing his pr
esence. He was told there were elaborate purification ceremonies that had to be performed first. Ceremonies and spell castings that would take a week or more. So he was bathed and oiled and suffered so many hours in incense filled rooms that he felt like smoked meat.
Meanwhile, he fretted and gnawed at his growing worry that all would be for naught.
Uppermost in his mind was what to do about Iraj. The question wasn't if his enemy would show up, but when. The flash of awareness Safar had caught of Iraj's presence had been very strong-as if Protarus had been newly energized, stronger in purpose and determination than ever.
Safar would just as soon not be here when Iraj and his spell brothers showed up with their vast army.
The only reason he had tarried in this cursed place was because Asper's ghost had said the way to Syrapis was through Caluz. How this could be, he didn't know. But he had to take the chance. Safar was more convinced then ever that only in Syrapis would he find the key to the disaster that was overtaking the world.
The disaster blowing on poisoned winds in far Hadinland.
The serving maid offered more wine. Safar hesitated, then shook his head, no, and returned his now empty cup.
He smiled, thinking, many things besides Iraj Protarus could stop him from reaching Syrapis. Life being what it is he might even choke on a wine cork and that would be the rather foolish end to the saga of Safar Timura, son of a potter who rose to become the king's chief wazier, only to die trying to get at his drink.
Just then, while he was grinning at his own imagined clownish demise, the doors boomed open and a troop of robed priestesses with serene eyes and pleasant smiles came to escort him into the Queen's presence.
He tried to read Hantilia's expression as he approached the gilded throne, but all she presented was a sweet smile on her oddly-to him-beautiful demon's face. He also couldn't tell from the atmosphere of the courtroom if a decision had been reached. The Caluzians only watched his progress down the main aisle, murmuring little pleasantries as he passed.
"My dear, Lord Timura," the Queen said after he'd reached her and bowed his respects. "Please know that we've given your proposal our full attention. We've discussed it for many hours. But, frankly we find ourselves in a great quandary."
"What could be so difficult, Majesty?" Safar asked, keeping his tone as formal and distantly polite as hers. They'd met many times since his arrival, but always in more intimate surroundings. "I only want to make a casting-under the close guidance and full assistance of your best mages-to determine when we can expect Iraj Protarus.
"I've not only promised, but shown magical proof that he will be unaware of this casting. It will in no way draw his attention, or the attention of his wizards."
Safar raised his hands, turning them palm up. "What could be simpler than that?" he asked. "Or more vital? After all, you must be as concerned as I am that an army will soon show up to knock on your doors."
"I don't agree," the Queen said. "We are well hidden. How will this Protarus find us through the secret gate? You saw for yourself how well hidden it is. Only the cleverest wizard would ever find it, much less unravel the spell locks."
"Don't make that mistake!" Safar said, emphatic. "Believe me when I say that Iraj will find the way. It may take him awhile, but he has more than enough magical resources at his command."
"You forget the Guardians," the Queen said. "They will protect us now, as they always have. Nothing has ever managed to get past them! Only those we favor are permitted through, such as pilgrims and innocent wayfarers escaping the Black Lands."
"And I'm telling you that you don't know what you're facing," Safar said, deliberately letting some of his anger show. "Iraj Protarus is an enemy who once conquered all of Esmir. And he's quickly bringing it back under his command. He will hammer your Guardians into ghostly dust and crack your gates open and spill you out like an egg.
"Finally, Your Highness, this something I simply must insist on. If no one here will take the threat seriously, I'll have to gather my people and leave before Protarus arrives. And there will be no meeting of Safar Timura and your blessed Oracle of Hadin, a meeting that I am now beginning to think was a big mistake on my part for ever even thinking about."
Safar's bluff got the result he intended. There were gasps in the courtroom. The Queen gave him a look of great concern, clutching her robe at the breast. "But you don't understand, my dear Lord Timura," she said. "We aren't refusing you out of some mean-spirited motivation. Our survival is at stake as much as yours, after all. The real fear is that the casting will ruin everything we've done. You're almost ready for your meeting with the Oracle. What if your spell conflicts with the magical preparations we've already made?"
"Why didn't someone say that was the worry, Your Highness?" Safar asked, bewildered. "Why all this unnecessary secrecy? Let me meet now with your best scholars and we'll have the answer within the hour."
The Queen shook her head, no. "I'm sorry," she said. "That isn't possible. You would have to delve into things that are forbidden for you know in advance."
"I've never seen a situation in which ignorance is good for anyone, Majesty," Safar said sharply. "And if this decision is final, I really must take my leave. My people and I will be on the march again by tomorrow at dawn."
"But where will you march to, my dear?" the Queen said, finally calling his bluff. "There is only one way out of Caluz. And that's the way you came. Back through the Black Lands to face an oncoming army. As I said before, the road ahead is blocked. What I kept from you then was that we sealed it because it leads right into the heart of the real Caluz, the mad Caluz, the Caluz where no mortal could possibly exist for more than a few moments."
He caught an odd note in her tone as she spoke the last, but when he tried to catch her eyes she averted them.
"So you see, Lord Timura," she said, "there is no escape for your people. They are trapped here, it grieves me deeply to say, along with my own subjects. And what happens to us will happen to them."
At that moment Safar fully understood the nature of the trap he'd been drawn into. And if he failed in his mission here, there was no getting out.
"I'm sorry, Safar, my dear," Hantilia said, low. "But you see how it is?"
Safar saw. Just as he saw there was no malice intended by Hantilia or anyone here. It was just so.
"All of us came here at great cost," she went on. "It was and still is a holy mission. We must trust and we must believe, or everything is lost. Not just for us, but for the world itself. Perhaps it's made us a bit mad.
I'm sure you think that when you see us smile when there is only reason to weep."
Safar thought they probably all were mad, including Hantilia. Then it came to him there was more to it than that.
"When we cast the spell that made this place," Hantilia said, "the Oracle warned us we would not be the same as before. She said we would leave part of ourselves in the real Caluz, the city we fled."
Somewhere in the courtroom someone giggled. There was an hysterical edge to it. Hantilia nodded toward the sound. "It's easier to bear than weeping," she said, "so I suppose we can't complain."
Safar knew he was defeated. He had no choice but to go on. "When will I see the Oracle?" he asked.
"In three more days," the Queen answered. "After I have undergone my own purification. I won't be able to see you until then."
"What about the boy?" Safar asked. "I'll need Palimak, you know."
"When I send for you," she answered, "bring him along. He'll only need a few hours of preparation."
Safar stared at her, realizing there was still a great deal more he didn't know.
He made one more attempt. "There is one other thing I'd like to ask," he said. "Something that has mystified me more than anything else."
"And what is that, my lord?" the Queen asked.
"You are all adherents of Asper," Safar said. "You wear robes with his symbol-the two-headed snake.
You speak his name with zealous reverence
. You even describe yourselves as members of the Cult of Asper. True?"
"Quite true," Hantilia said. "But what is the question?"
"Why is it none of your are curious about what I know of Asper?" he asked, noting the sharp reactions all about. "I have studied him most of my adult life. I doubt there is a mage in all Esmir who knows as much about his teachings as I do. I've even shown some of you his book, which I have in my possession."
He slipped the little book of Asper from his sleeve and held it up. "This is quite rare, you know," Safar said. "I got it at great personal cost. And yet none of you have asked to see it. I would have thought you'd have a team of scholars and clerks awaiting my arrival so you could copy down his words."
Hantilia sighed wearily, then said, "We are forbidden to speak of it to you. I can say no more."
"Yes, but do you have anything like it?" Safar pressed, waving the book. "If not, do you possess any artifacts from Asper at all?"
Another long silence, another shake of the Queen's head. "Again," she said, "I am forbidden to answer."
"Yes, yes, I know," Safar said, not hiding his disgust. "Have patience and all will be revealed."
Hantilia sighed, then leaned forward from her throne. Safar felt her cast the gentle spell that made her perfume headier, her presence soothing with just a hint of sensuality. But he pushed it away. She drew back and for a moment he thought she was offended. Good, he thought. That's how I meant it.
Then she sighed again. "It's the best I can do, Safar," she whispered. "Please trust me."
Safar was in a dark mood when he entered the Kyranian encampment. It was made fouler by the holiday spirit in the air, music and dance and hilarious chatter in the face of what he knew to be a most questionable future. Khysmet caught his bad temper, laid his ears back and nipped at the barking dogs.
They made a gloomy pair riding through the camp and when people saw them they stopped what they were doing-music and laughter cutting off in mid-peal-and stared as they passed, faces turning dark with worry. His kinsmen's plummeting emotions startled Safar from his mood and he felt guilty for being the cause of it.