"We've only got a minute or two while they're disoriented!" Matt snapped. "Then we'll have two monsters to fight instead of one! Quick! Think up something to kill them!"
But Arouetto was out of commission. He was staring at the tableau in front of him, entranced.
Matt turned, brain racing, trying to think up a new cure—and discovered that lions and dragons seemed to be natural enemies.
Actually, first he discovered the fear of seeing a lion stalking toward him, pausing in its roaring only long enough to lick its chops. But the dragon saw, let out a blast like a steam whistle, and charged to get to the tasty morsel first.
They collided, of course.
Scaly shoulder slammed furry shoulder, and the lion turned on the dragon in instant fury, lashing out with a taloned paw and a bellow. But his claws rattled harmlessly off steely scales, and the dragon blasted him with high-octane halitosis. The lion howled in pain and fury and leaped.
Somehow, the big cat managed to land on the dragon's back. The reptile instantly dove to the ground and rolled, but the charred lion hopped loose, then jumped back in to dig its claws into the soft underbelly. The dragon screamed with agony and locked its jaws on the lion's neck, then started clawing him with its talons. Roaring and clawing, the two beasts rolled over and over, crushing marble benches and knocking over statuary.
"Wizard, stop them!" Arouetto cried. "They are hurting each other!"
"That's putting it mildly. Why me? You've had a lot more experience with this illusion stuff than I have!"
"Not with living creatures! Stop them! Annihilate them if you must, but end their pain!"
"Oh, all right," Matt grumbled. He took a good hard look at the bloody scene before him, then closed his eyes, envisioning that same scene, then adding a little touch he'd seen in his childhood...
Arouetto cried out in relief.
Matt opened his eyes and saw a yellow column poking down at an angle, with a rounded pink cylinder on the end that went back and forth across the struggling monsters. The first stroke eliminated the dragon's head and the lion's back; the second took off the top of the lion's head and the end of the dragon's tail. With each stroke, the pink cylinder removed more and more, not knocking them aside, but simply making them disappear. One last stroke took out the lion's feet and the dragon's spine, and they were gone. A last roar and steam blast seemed to echo in the distance, then faded away. Matt closed his eyes, imagining the yellow column fading away, too. Arouetto exclaimed in wonder, and Matt opened his eyes just in time to see the last vague outline dissipate. The giant characters "No. 2" lingered a moment longer, then they evaporated, too.
"Most amazing!" Arouetto breathed. "What was that mystical engine, Lord Wizard?"
"We call it an 'eraser' where I come from," Matt explained. "In this case, though, it was just a mental construct."
"Are not all these illusions?" Arouetto turned to him with a frown. "But who made the chimera?"
"Somebody who's out to get you." Matt never minded stating the obvious—after all, he had taught undergraduates.
"But who? I know all the sorcerers and wizards here, and we sorted out our differences long ago!"
Matt had a quick mental vision of that sorting out—the scholar's Greek warriors and Roman legions tearing apart the sorcerers' synthetic demons. He would have liked to have been on hand for that one. No, on second thought, maybe not—he had become too involved with the conflicts of this pocket universe as it was. "Well, if it's not one of the established residents, it must be somebody new in the neighborhood."
"But how would someone new know that I have an atrium? It is not obvious from the outside of the house."
"A point," Matt admitted, "and it raises a very nasty possibility."
"What is that?"
"Well, if it isn't somebody new, and it isn't somebody old, then it has to be somebody from outside this frame of reference."
"From the real world?" Arouetto stared. "But who?"
"Somebody who knows your weakness for anything Classical, and somebody who's used to keeping an eye on things, just in case one of you prisoners wants to make trouble. Add to that: somebody who has enough magical power to see into this pocket universe, and you have—"
"Rebozo!" Arouetto cried.
Matt nodded grimly. "Glad I didn't have to say it. If you came to the same conclusion, maybe it's not just my nasty, suspicious nature."
"I should think not! Once you state the evidence, the conclusion is obvious! But why would he seek to obliterate me now, when he has been content to keep me in obscurity thus... Of course! I must have become a greater threat!"
Matt nodded. "That would make sense, yes."
"But how?"
"Because there's suddenly a chance that you'll be able to break out of here."
"Why..." Arouetto's eyes glowed. "Of course! Because you are here with me!"
"Right." Matt nodded. "Neither one of us is all that much of a threat alone, but together, we're a time bomb!"
"A time bomb?" Arouetto frowned. "What is that?"
"I'll tell you when we have more time," Matt said. "Right now, I think we'd just better turn our attention to going back to the real world."
Arouetto turned to look at his villa sadly. "It will be regrettable, leaving this charming place."
"I don't mean to push you," Matt said. "If you want to stay—"
"No, no!" Arouetto turned back to him in alarm. "The company of real living people is far more important than this comfort. Of course, it would be pleasant to have both—but we never can, you know, Lord Wizard. One thing can only be gained at the price of another."
"Yes, I know," Matt said softly, "but you're wise enough to learn the price before you've bought it. I know a lot of people who get what they want, then discover what they've lost in the process—when it's too late to get it back."
"It seems to be a Law of Compensation." Arouetto gave him a conspiratorial smile. "And I am ready to yield this treasure, to gain my freedom."
"Maybe you'll win King Boncorro's favor," Matt said. "Maybe he'll build you a villa just like this, and you can commission sculptors to make these statues for real."
"That would be wonderful, of course," Arouetto sighed, "but no other sculptor could craft these statues, exactly as I have imagined them—for no other sculptor has my mind, and we cannot truly share and mingle our thoughts while we are alive, Lord Wizard. We must make do with the clumsy medium of words, written or spoken, and accept their imperfections."
"Again, compensation." Matt nodded. "Maybe we can figure out a way for you to come back and visit now and then."
"That would be pleasant." But Arouetto didn't seem to care that ardently. "Still, as I have said, one must make a choice in life, my friend—and I will choose living people over lifeless marble in an instant."
"Well, it might take a little longer than that," Matt cautioned. "My spells don't seem to have been working all that well in Latruria—in fact, I've been trying to hold down on the magic, and the reason I haven't been willing to admit it to myself is that it might not work as well as I'm used to."
"Certainly not," Arouetto said. "You are a wizard devoted to Right and Good; your magic is based on Faith."
Matt stared, taken aback by the scholar's instant understanding. Then he shook himself and protested, "But my spells worked before I believed in the power of religion in this universe!"
"You may have believed more than you know," Arouetto explained. "Besides, even if you did not knowingly believe very strongly in God, you did believe in Right and Goodness, and their power to ultimately triumph."
"Well, sure, ultimately..."
"Then, as I've said, your magic was based on Faith," Arouetto said with satisfaction. "But Latruria is a land steeped in cynicism, even in doubt, at least so far as the powers of Righteousness and Goodness are concerned. Therefore your magic was weakened."
Matt sighed. "That makes all too much sense. I wish my friend Saul were here—he's a natural skeptic, so
the jaundiced views of the Latrurian people would only strengthen his magic."
"Is he a wizard, too?"
Matt felt a sudden gust of breeze, but answered, "Yes, though he even questions that."
"Who questions what?" said a brittle voice.
They spun, staring. Then a grin stretched wide across Matt's face, and he advanced with open arms. "Saul! What a sense of timing!"
After the glad greetings and the introductions, Matt had to try to explain to Arouetto why Saul wore a barbarian horseman's loose trousers and short tunic, why it was tucked into his pants instead of hanging over, and why he wore rider's boots when he didn't ride much.
"Inquisitive, isn't he?" Saul asked.
Matt shrugged. "He's a scholar." Then he tried to explain their predicament to his friend—and to Arouetto why Saul wore nothing but blue: light blue shirt and dark blue trousers. Matt did notice that the shirt bore a closer resemblance to homespun than to chambray, that the trousers were obviously monk's cloth instead of denim, and that their blue wasn't the real softness of indigo faded, but some local substitute. Still, he had to admit that Angelique had done a very creditable job of imitating blue jeans and chambray in a medieval setting. He was tempted to wonder why she had bothered—but then, he knew Saul.
Then they settled down to some serious plotting. "Ortho the Frank knew you were in danger," Saul explained.
"Ortho? Why was he tuned in?"
"Mostly because Alisande has marched into Latruria with Ortho and a small army, to come and get you."
"A small army!" Matt cried, appalled. "Hey, no! I don't want to cause a war!"
"No, just to fight in ones that other people start," Saul said with sarcasm. "So she was already in Latruria and making pretty good speed toward Venarra, when Chancellor Rebozo, whoever he is, sent word to Alisande that you were no longer in Latruria."
"I'll just bet he did!" Matt fumed. "He hoped she'd get the idea that if I wasn't there, there was no point in marching farther south. She didn't just pack up and go home, did she?"
"Without you to bring back? No way! She sent word that she might as well pay a courtesy visit, as long as she had gone that far. Then she talked Sir Guy into calling for me."
"How'd you find me?"
"Ortho guessed that you must be in some sort of alternate magical pocket universe, and I thought of the physicists' idea that the higher dimensions are hidden inside the other three. So I went into a trance and fished around with my mind, trying to get outside the three-dimensional frame of reference—but I wasn't having any luck, until I heard your voice saying, 'I wish Saul were here.' I zeroed in on that."
"I'd like to say it wasn't necessary," Matt said, "but I'm afraid it was. Hate to have you pulling my chestnuts out of the fire again, Saul."
"Don't mention it—life always gets more interesting when you're around." Saul looked up at Arouetto, and Matt could almost see the chip settling onto his shoulder. "So you're a scholar, huh?"
"I am," Arouetto said, "though your friend seems to think the word 'student' is more apt to what I am. For myself, I see no difference between the two."
"Older usage, yeah," Saul admitted. "Any particular reason why you don't call yourself a philosopher?"
"An excellent one—that I do not know enough, and am too poor in judgment." Arouetto's smile warmed. "It is Knowledge I love, Wizard Saul, not wisdom."
"Well, at least you know it—in contrast to a few philosophers I could name. And you're not a professor?"
Arouetto looked surprised. "What would I profess?"
"Whatever your major area of study is," Saul snapped.
"Greece and Reme? There is too much of them to know, for one man to have the audacity to profess his opinions about them!"
"Your humility does you credit," Saul grumbled, "but it's very frustrating when I'm trying to work up a good argument. Okay, Scholar Arouetto—if we want to get back to the real world, where do you think we should aim for? Merovence, so we're outside King Boncorro's jurisdiction?"
"Oh, no! We can do no good for Latruria unless we are in it!"
"Up to our necks," Saul griped.
Matt agreed. "If we do go back to Latruria, Rebozo will know it in a matter of minutes, and will hit us with everything he's got."
Saul's smile twisted. "I just love paradoxes. So what we need is someplace inside Latruria, that's outside Rebozo's powers. Neat, huh?"
"Very." Arouetto's eyes glowed again. "But as with any paradox, Wizard Saul, one can resolve it by stepping outside its terms—and there is one hill in Latruria that has held proof against even King Maledicto's miasma of evil, and has certainly held fast without King Boncorro's secular skepticism."
"Oh?" Saul looked up with foreboding. "What hill is that?"
"The Vatican."
"How did I know that was coming?" Saul sighed and looked up at Matt. "Think St. Peter's might be there, in this universe?"
"The largest cathedral in Europe?" asked Arouetto. "Be sure, it is!"
"Well, what the hey! I always have wanted to see the sights." Saul came to his feet. "Of course, I expect the Sistine Chapel hasn't been built yet, let alone decorated, but it's worth seeing anyway." He looked at Matt. "Who do we know in the Vatican?"
"Well," Arouetto said slowly, "there is Brother Thomas..."
Brother Thomas, it turned out, was an acquaintance of Arouetto's from their school days—and Matt got another shock when he found out that Arouetto was a deacon. He had attended the seminary because it was the only place devoted to any kind of learning, and the only one that had a good, though limited, library—excellent, so long as all you wanted to study was theology. When Arouetto realized how badly he wanted to study other subjects, he knew his calling was not for the priesthood.
Apparently, Brother Thomas had come to the same conclusion, though for different reasons—Arouetto said he simply felt that he was not good enough for the job. In vain did his teachers explain to him that he did not have to be a saint, only a good man trying to be better and trying to serve his fellows. Brother Thomas remained adamant. His vocation was for the clergy, he agreed, but not for the priesthood—yet. Perhaps it would be, in God's own time. Until then, he would serve in whatever capacity his bishop wanted.
What his bishop wanted of him, it transpired, was to stay at the seminary as librarian, which was ideal from Brother Thomas' point of view, since it gave him the company of the books he dearly loved, and time to write the treatises about the problems that had been worrying him. He showed them to his teachers, and they exclaimed with delight—he had managed to come up with answers to the spiritual problems that had been perplexing them all, ever since merchants started bringing back alien ideas along with the spices of the Orient. He might not have been a priest, but he was a theologian—so the bishop transferred him to the cathedral library, where he remained happily filing and scribbling until the pope co-opted him to run the Vatican library. Besides, that way the cardinals could keep a personal eye on the development of Brother Thomas' ideas; they weren't certain they liked the sound of some of his newer lines of thought.
Saul grinned. "Sounds like my kind of hombre."
Arouetto frowned. " 'Hombre'?"
"That's Iberian," Matt said quickly. "It means 'man.' " He turned to Saul. "So what do we do with this librarian, now that we've found him?"
"Think about him," Saul said simply. "Scholar Arouetto, can you show us what Brother Thomas looks like?"
The scholar closed his eyes, brow creasing in concentration, and a picture frame appeared next to him, with a canvas that gradually became clear, showing them a round face topped by a tonsure, a snub nose, small but kindly eyes, and a little mouth pursed in a smile. It was a gentle face, a tranquil face—just the kind of man who might start an intellectual earthquake.
Why did Matt have the feeling Brother Thomas was never coming out of the Vatican again?
"Theologian, huh?" Saul stared at the picture, brow knit. "He have anything to say about magic?"
&
nbsp; Arouetto smiled. "It is one of the notions that has aroused consternation among the cardinals. Brother Thomas maintains that what we term 'magic' is really just the deft handling of unseen forces that surround us, but do not come from either Heaven or Hell—they simply arise from all living things. It is the life force, if you will. But the way of manipulating and concentrating that to affect objects and people, that is learned from God and His Saints, or the Devil and his minions. It is not the force that comes from God, but the knowledge."
Matt nodded. "Which explains why magic works in your universe but doesn't in ours—our life-forms don't give off that kind of energy."
"How is this?" Arouetto lifted his head like a hound striking a scent. "You come from another universe?"
"Yes, and we'll explain later," Saul said quickly. "Right now, we need to get out of this universe."
"But if that's magic, what's a miracle?" Matt cocked his head to the side. "Those happen in our universe, too."
"Ah!" Arouetto raised a forefinger. "Miracles are the work of God directly, or through His Saints—so says Brother Thomas. They are not a manipulation of natural forces, but an exercise of God's power itself."
"Meaning the One Who made the laws can break them when He wants to," Saul said with a sardonic smile. "Dealer wins all draws."
"Well, at least we're not trying for a new deal." Matt sighed. "We're just playing our cards better."
"I'll take three," Saul said. "Let's try to reach out to Brother Thomas, shall we? Use him as our anchor to pull ourselves out."
Arouetto frowned. "But how can you reach out to his universe from this one?"
"Who says we can't?" Saul countered. "Have you ever tried?"
"Why—no!" Arouetto said, startled. "I am no wizard, but only a poor scholar! Still, there are many sorcerers and wizards here—surely they have attempted it!"
The Secular Wizard Page 35