On Her Majesty's Wizardly Service fw-2

by Diane Duane

  “The idea was that the cats would tell the Gods how well their ehhif had treated them,” Wallis said, leaning back and folding his arms, “and the Gods would be nice to the ehhif in return. Well, this went nicely for some centuries. The mummies got more elaborate—see, this is a fairly late one: the mummy cases had become quite ornate.” He turned to the table again and lifted down the case which had enclosed the mummy on which he had been working. It was in the small shape of a Person, but with its forefeet crossed together over its chest, the way a human mummy would have had its arms crossed: its hind legs were stretched out straight, and the whole business stood upright on a little pedestal, which was gilded, so that the Person’s image stood upright as well, the way an ehhif would have. The image of the cat’s face was inlaid with lapis lazuli whiskers, and around the cat’s neck was a tracery of gold, a collar, jeweled with shining bits of colored glass.

  “It’s beautiful workmanship, isn’t it?” Wallis said. “They took a lot of trouble over some of these. Equally, the spells and amulets buried with the People became very involved indeed: and the cemeteries at Bubastis got fuller and fuller. There were at least three hundred thousand cat-mummies at the cemetery at Beni-Hassan alone: probably there were many more … But then the Egyptian ehhif’s religion changed, or was supplanted by others, and the cat-mummies and the cemeteries were forgotten.”

  Wallis leaned back further in the chair, uncrossed his legs, crossed them again. “Well. Their language became lost over time, and it has taken us a long time to start getting it back again. My old teacher was one of those who became involved with trying to recover it, and I went with him to Egypt, a couple of years ago, to start trying to translate some of the texts in the Pyramids. Some of those texts were very peculiar, and my teacher could make very little of them: but I came at the translation from a slightly different angle … and realized what some of those wall carvings meant.”

  “Spells,” Urruah said. “They were wizardry.”

  “Yes,” Wallis said. “Some of them. It was knowledge I kept to myself. I am no wizard, not as I understand the term is usually meant. But I know a little of the language—Hauhai, the ‘Great Speech’?—some words of it were carved inside the Pyramids. And from other such carvings, and a great many of the papyruses we recovered, I know a fair amount of Ailurin, which was well known by the priestly class in the Old Kingdoms period. This has helped me with some of the mummies, since I’ve been able to tell genuine spells of protection from simple prayers, or lists of things to have the cat ask the Gods for when it gets to Heaven.”

  He smiled slightly: but after a breath or so, the smile turned grim. “The matter which has been troubling me,” he said, “is that over the past couple of years, someone seems to have been going to great trouble to destroy as many cat-mummies as possible—especially at the old burial grounds at Bubastis, near the modern city of Alexandria in the northern river delta. No one has made any attempt on our collection here—we have several thousand cat-mummies—but the cemeteries at Bubastis are being systematically destroyed.”

  “By whom?” Rhiow said. “And why?”

  “By British nitrate wholesalers,” said Wallis, “for fertilizer.”

  “What?” Auhlae said.

  Wallis looked uncomfortable. “You’ll understand that, even as dry as Egypt is,” he said, “sooner or later, if you simply bury things in the sand, they’ll decay: and if you mummify them and bury them in the sand, they decay in a very controlled manner, so that finally very little is left but material which is very high in nitrites. Some bright lad got the idea of bringing huge cargo ships down there, digging up the mummies, or what was left of them, and shipping them home to England to be sold as fertilizer for ehhif gardens and farmland.”

  “Dear Iau,” Auhlae said, “how …” She broke off, apparently unable to think of a word strong enough to describe her feelings.

  “Now as I understand feline thought from the writings of the old priests,” Wallis said, “once you leave the body, there’s no great concern for it: you’ve another life waiting, and you go to it and get on with it. So in that regard, whether one ends as fertilizer or food for some scavenger is probably moot. But what troubles me is how many of those mummies were buried with a specific kind of protection. Most of my fellow translators have rendered it as a charm against extreme heat and cold. But I’m not sure they’re right in this. I read it as a spell, a piece of wizardry intended to protect against the Great Fire and the Great Cold that the spell insists will follow it. Some kind of destruction, ‘like the sun falling’, that’s the usual phrase—and then ‘a winter without end’.”

  “Iau,” Rhiow said softly.

  “And now,” Wallis said, “suddenly all these mummies, many of them with one version or another of this spell in place, are being taken away and destroyed. Ground up and thrown on people’s gardens,” Wallis said, with a grimace of distaste. “Whatever else we know about the Egyptians of that period, we know they were not foolish people. Their priests in particular. I am sure some of them were wizards—possibly wizards of great accomplishment. I don’t believe that anyone would be so careful, over a space nearly fifteen hundred years, to make sure that all these cat-mummies had one version or another of this particular spell written in their bandages. And there are some disturbing hints in the carvings in the great tombs that suggest removing these massed spells would be dangerous. There are mentions of some great destruction that would come. First fire, a terrible fire that will devastate the world. And then ice, ice forever …”

  Urruah looked at Rhiow: the others all exchanges glances. “There were visionaries among those ehhif,” Arhu said, “and they worked with the wizards of other species who lived then. Almost certainly with our people too. What did they see?” He looked at Rhiow. “What we came to try to prevent?”

  “It’s not beyond probability,” Rhiow said softly. “They might not have understood the science behind the idea of a nuclear winter … but they might have foreseen it, all right, and devised a defense. It wouldn’t surprise me that it would involve our people, either: ehhif always connected us with warmth and the sun … with reason. We told them often enough about Aaurh the Mighty, and how she warred the world free of the cold at the beginning of things … something for which sa’Rrahh always hated her.” She looked up at the young ehhif. “Hwallis,” Rhiow said, “how much of this spell against the Great Fire do you know?”

  “Most of it,” he said, “but not all. The whole thing, the ‘master’ version of the spell, was only rarely written out because it was so long and complicated. Most often it was sketched on the bandages in an abbreviated form. Even in the earliest days of the mass mummy burials, few mummies contained it, or the carved version of it on an amulet, again because of the complexity. I had hoped to lead another expedition this year to go back to Bubastis and hunt specifically for the full form of the spell, which the carvings in the Pyramids suggested could reconfirm its protection of the world if it was pronounced by a ‘person of Power’ in the right time and place. But now the cemeteries are almost empty: their contents are in the holds of cargo ships, ground to powder. Even if I went now, I wouldn’t likely find what I’m looking for. What I fear is that protection against this Great Fire, this Great Ice, whatever they may be, is being lost … and that the way is being opened for something terrible to happen. So I asked Ouhish to see if he could get in touch with some wizards, people who might know what to do.” He shrugged. “And here you are …”

  “It sounds like the Lone One has been purposely dismantling this protection,” Urruah said. “Using pawns, as usual, to do Its work. Ehhif, and their innocent greed …” He glanced up at Wallis. “Sorry. Nothing personal.”

  “No offense taken,” Wallis said.

  “So what do we do?” Siffha’h said.

  “I would imagine try to find the whole spell,” Rhiow said, “and reinstate the protection. It could very well help with other matters.” She glanced at the others. “It might even make t
hose other occurrences impossible …”

  “Might,” said Auhlae.

  “I take your point,” Rhiow said. “Hwallis—would it help if we were able to look for your full version of the spell, the master spell of which these others are fragments, in other museums?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Our collection of cat-mummies here is the biggest in the world.”

  “Not in a hundred years, it won’t be,” Urruah said.

  Wallis looked perplexed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “He means,” Arhu said, “that we’re from the future. And the collection of that British Museum is a lot bigger than this one.”

  “My God,” the ehhif said. He fell silent for a moment, then said, “I can give you a description of what to look for, both in the written and the carved forms. Will that help?”

  “Very much indeed,” Rhiow said. “Ruah?”

  “Show me what you have in mind,” Urruah said. “No, I don’t need a drawing: do it in your head. While we’re both working in the Speech, I can see what you’re thinking, a little. Don’t rush, just make pictures …”

  They spent a few minutes about it, until Urruah was satisfied. “That’ll do,” he said. “I should have no trouble passing it on.”

  “And I think I know someone who might be able to help us,” Rhiow said. “Come on—let’s get on with our other business for the day. When we get back home, we can start making some inquiries.”

  They all got up. Wallis rose as well. “This has been most extraordinary,” he said. “When can I expect to see you again?”

  “I really don’t know,” Rhiow said. “We’re in the middle of a fairly complex business at the moment … but I think you may have helped us with it, for which we thank you very much. Ouhish, we don’t have a lot of time to linger: will you tell Hwallis about what we were discussing with you earlier?”

  “Gladly. I hope we see you again soon,” Ouhish said, “for this problem has us both frightened …”

  “We’ll be in touch as soon as we can,” Auhlae said. And she waved her tail, amused. “It’s been charming to speak with an ehhif who knows our language.”

  Wallis bowed. “Dai stihó,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Rhiow said. “I hope we may go well on this business of yours … and others.”

  Ouhish saw them out, down to the great flight of stairs reaching down to the Great Russell Street entrance. The walk back to the street where the timeslide spell was sited went a little more swiftly than the walk to the Museum had, partly because of familiarity and partly because all of them were getting bolder in dealing with the traffic: though it hardly moved much faster than the fifteen miles an hour at which London motor traffic moved in their native time, the vehicles were a good deal less lethal. They found the street conveniently empty, and Urruah found his “tripwire” under the mud and activated the spell-circle. It rose up in an instantaneous, blazing hedge of fire around him, and hard behind him came Siffha’h, straight onto her power point, and the others all close behind.

  “All right,” Urruah said. “Next coordinates. The Illingworth incursion. The slide’s in standby—”

  “Ready. Now,” Siffha’h said, reared up a little, and came down with her front paws directly on the power point.

  The blast of fire rose up around them, pressing in.

  “Hello,” said a high clear voice, “what’s this?”

  All the People’s heads jerked up. He could plainly see them, and had waded halfway into the circle already, waist-high in the “hedge’ of fire—a young ehhif, in shorts and a white shirt and a short dark coat, and he was looking at them, and the circle, in astonishment. What’s he doing in here, how can he be in here, get him out!! was Rhiow’s first thought. But there was no time. The spell was already blazing with Siffha’h’s blast of power, and they were all vanishing together, the People, the spell-circle, the ehhif boy—

  There was no way to stop it, any more than an ehhif would have been able to get out of a moving vehicle at high speed. The pressure built. There was a cry from the boy, lost in a roar of sound which Rhiow couldn’t understand. Then everything began to shake—and that she understood too well. Unauthorized ingress into a timeslide or worldgating, she thought, the whole spell comes apart and flings everyone in it into not-time or not-space. Iau, not like this, why must it end like this—!

  The pressure increased unbearably: Rhiow lost all sense of herself. So much for this life, was her last thought.

  But it was not. What seemed a long time later, Rhiow found herself lying on the concrete floor of the unused platform beneath Tower Hill Underground station: and near her was the boundary of the timeslide spell, all the virtue drained out of it. The others lay about in the positions they had held in the spell—and sitting down by them, his knees drawn up against his chest, trembling, was the young ehhif, looking at his surroundings, and the People, in terror.

  Rhiow got up, slowly, feeling as if one of the big draft horses of the 1874 streets had been jumping all over her. Next to her, Urruah was pushing himself up onto his feet, where he just managed to stand, wobbling, and look at the ehhif boy.

  The boy wet his lips and croaked, “Kitty kitty?”

  Urruah looked at Arhu, who was awake as well, and getting up. “Another problem,” Urruah said.

  Rhiow was forced to agree…

  SIX

  The argument which life seemed lately to have been becoming, now broke out again with unusual vehemence in the next few minutes: and it would have gone on for much longer, Rhiow thought, had there not been a young ehhif gazing in astonishment at the sight of five cats all apparently staring silently at one another with their tails lashing.

  Auhlae was not very pleased with Urruah. “You didn’t make the timeslide exclusive!”

  “Why should I have made it exclusive?!” Urruah said, aggrieved. “No one was going to be able to see us, and the spell was told to sort for transit times which wouldn’t endanger any being which came along—”

  “Vhai,” Rhiow said. “Urruah, the language was pretty vague. You know how literal spells are!”

  “Rhi, what was the point when no one should have been able to see we were there, or the spell—” He hissed softly. “Sorry. Sorry. But Rhi—” He looked over at the young ehhif. “Ehhif can’t see wizardry, as a rule. What is he? Is he a wizard? If so, why does he look so panicked? Or is he someone who’s about to be called to the Art, but hasn’t been given the Oath yet? Are we supposed to induct him somehow?”

  “The Powers forfend,” Rhiow muttered. “That’s hardly our job. We had enough trouble that way with Arhu.” But then she smiled slightly. “And a certain other party …”

  “Was that who you were thinking of going to for help with the mummy problem?” Urruah said.

  “The very same. It’ll have to wait a little longer now.”

  “You may as well go take care of it,” Urruah said, “because whatever else we might have had planned for this timeslide, this business has ruined it.” He flirted his tail at the young ehhif. The slide’s half-deranged: it’s going to take another half-day at least to put it back the way it ought to be.”

  “Well, all right. But meantime we can’t sit here ignoring him. And lend Auhlae a paw, for Iau’s sake: she looks terrible. And call Huff: he’d better know about this sooner rather than later.”

  “Right.”

  Rhiow walked over to the boy and sat down in front of him, tucking her tail in around her feet and trying to radiate calm instead of what she felt, which was complete confusion and terror. “Young human,” she said to him in the Speech, “please don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not,” he said. He had a narrow, intelligent face, and he was holding it very still, despite what was going on inside him, and how young he was. He could hardly be more than fifteen.

  “Good. There’s no need to be, though you’re in a strange place, and something which must seem very odd has just happened to you. What’s your name?”

  “Artie
,” he said.

  “Artie. I’m Rhiow. These others lying and sitting around here are friends of mine: we’ll get you introduced to them shortly. Would you tell me what you think just happened to you?”

  “I saw a circle of light in the street,” he said. “A circle of fire. But it didn’t look like fire.”

  “It wasn’t,” Rhiow said. “It was wizardry.”

  “You mean magic?” the boy said, his eyes widening.

  “You could call it that. But not the kind of magic which is just one of your people making it look like something has vanished. True magic: wizardry.”

  “Then it is real,” he whispered. “My uncle said it might be.”

  “Your uncle’s wise,” Rhiow said, wondering in the meantime if there was yet another wizard about to be involved in this business, and in a way, hoping not: there were already more than enough complications to this intervention. “But, Artie, you should understand that most humans, most ehhif as we call them, can’t see wizardry and don’t know that it exists.”

  “I saw it, though …”

  “Yes,” Arhu said, coming up beside Rhiow and sitting down to look at the boy. “He’s a key …”

  Rhiow glanced over at him. “To what?”

  “I don’t know. But They’ve sent him,” Arhu said. The Powers. I saw him, while Odin and I were flying.”

  “The Powers? What Powers?” Artie said.

  “That’s going to take some explaining,” Rhiow said. “Meanwhile, Artie, we have to get you back where you belong as quickly as we can—”

  “I’m not going,” he said. “I want to see where this is first!”

  Rhiow and Arhu glanced at each other. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to help it,” Arhu said. “And, Rhi, you can’t just toss him back where he came from. Why would They send him if he wasn’t going to be some use? We’ve got to keep him.”

  “Where?” Rhiow said, a little desperately. “Where will he sleep? What will he eat?” She wondered if this was how an ehhif felt when one of their young turned up on the doorstep with a kitten-Person in their arms.