“I hope the day will come when we may meet again as friends, Lord of the Shinzawai, for there is much that our two people could learn from one another.”
The Shinzawai lord placed his hand upon Milamber’s shoulder. “I hope also for that day, Great One I will send prayers with you. One thing more. If you should perchance see Kasumi in your homeworld, tell him his father thinks of him. Now go, and good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” said Milamber. He took his wife by the arm and hurried back toward the pattern room. When they reached it, a chime sounded, and Milamber pushed his wife and son behind him. A brief haze of white appeared over the pattern in the floor, and Fumita stood there, startled.
“Milamber!” he said, stepping forward.
“Stop, Fumita!”
The older magician stood still “I mean you no harm. Word of what occurred has reached those of the Assembly not attending the games. The Assembly is in turmoil. Tapek and the other Warlord’s pets demand your life. Hochopepa and Shimone argue on your behalf. Never has such discord been seen In the High Council, the War Party demands an end to the independence of the Assembly during times of war, and the Party for Progress and the Party for Peace are in open alliance with the Blue Wheel Party. The Empire is upside down.”
The older magician seemed to droop visibly as he related this. He looked years older than Milamber had ever remembered seeing him. “I think you may have been right in many of your beliefs, Milamber. We must have changes in the Empire if we are not to decay, but so many changes so quickly? I don’t know.”
There was a moment of silence between them; Milamber said, “What I did was for the Empire, Fumita. You must believe that.”
The older magician nodded slowly. “I believe you, Milamber, or at least I wish to.” He seemed to stand more erect. “Whatever the outcome there will be much for the Assembly to do when things have settled. Perhaps we can steer the Empire to a healthier course.
“But you must go quickly. No soldier will try to stop you, for only a few outside the Holy City know of your actions, but the Warlord’s pets may already be seeking you out. You caught our brothers by surprise at the games, and none singly could stand against you, but if they coordinate against you, even your vaunted powers will avail you little. You would have to kill another magician, or be killed in turn.”
“Yes, Fumita, I know. I must go. I have no desire to kill another magician, but I shall if I must.”
Fumita looked pained at hearing this. “How are you to reach the rift? You haven’t been to the staging area, have you?”
“No, but I go to the City of the Plains, and from there I can command litter.”
“It is too slow. The litter will take over an hour to reach the staging area.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a transfer device. He held it out to Milamber. “The third setting will take you directly to the rift machine.”
Milamber took it. “Fumita, I mean to try to close the rift.”
Fumita shook his head. “Milamber, even with your powers I don’t think you can. Scores of magicians worked to create the great rift, and the controlling spells were established only on the Kelewan side. The Midkemian machine is only to stabilize the rift’s location.”
“I know, Fumita. You’ll soon know, for I’ve sent my works to Hocho. My ‘mysterious’ research has been an intensive study of rift energies.
“I may now know more about them than any other magician in the Assembly. I know it would be a desperate, possibly destructive, action from the Midkemian side, but this war must end.”
“Then get free to your homeworld and wait. The Emperor will act soon, I am sure. The Warlord could not have been handed a bigger blow by losing the war than the one you handed him in the arena. If the Light of Heaven orders peace, then perhaps we can deal with the question of the rift. Stay your hand until you’ve learned what the King’s reaction to the peace offer is.”
“Then you also play the Great Game?”
Fumita smiled. “I am not the only magician to descend into playing politics, Milamber. Hochopepa and I have been a part of this from the onset. Go now, and may the gods be with you. I wish you a safe journey and a long, prosperous life on your homeworld.”
He then walked past Milamber and his family. Once he was out of sight, Milamber activated the device.
The soldier jumped. One moment he had been sitting under a tree, shaded from the setting sun’s heat, then the next moment a magician with a woman and child suddenly appeared before him. By the time he was on his feet, they were moving toward the rift machine, several hundred yards away. When they reached the machine, a platform with tall poles rising up on either side of it, between which a glimmering “nothingness” could be seen, an officer who was in charge of the troops moving through snapped to attention.
“Get these men back from the platform.”
“Your will, Great One.” He barked orders, and the men fell back. Milamber took Katala by the hand and led her through the rift.
One step, a moment of disorientation, and they were standing in the middle of the Tsurani camp in the valley in the Grey Towers. It was night, and campfires burned brightly. Several officers were startled at the unusual arrival, but stepped out of their way.
Milamber said, “Have you captured horses?”
One of the officers nodded dumbly.
“Bring two, at once. Saddled.”
“Your will, Great One,” said the man, and rushed off. Soon a soldier brought two horses toward him. When the soldier came close, Milamber could see it was Hokanu. The younger Shinzawai son looked quickly about as he handed the reins to Milamber. “Great One, we have just received word something terrible has occurred at the Imperial Games, though the reports are vague. I suspect your sudden appearance here has something to do with those reports. You must be away quickly, for these are the Warlord’s men in camp, and should they arrive at the same conclusion, there is no telling what they might risk.”
Milamber held William while Katala mounted with Hokanu’s aid. He handed their son up to her and mounted his own steed. “Hokanu, I have just seen your father. Go to him; he has need of you.”
“I will return to my father’s estate, Great One.” The young Tsurani hesitated, then added, “Should you see my brother, tell him I live, for he does not know.”
Milamber said he would, then turned to Katala and took the reins of her horse. “Hold to the saddle horn, beloved. I will carry William.”
Without another word they rode out of camp. Several times guards started to challenge them, but the sight of the black robe stopped them. They rode for hours in the moonlight. Milamber could hear the shouts of soldiers as he led his family to safety.
Katala bore up under it all like the warriors she was descended from, and Milamber marveled at her. She had never sat a horse before, but she made no complaint. To be taken from her home and whisked away to a strange, dark world, where she knew no one, must be a frightening experience. She revealed a tough fiber to her character he had only guessed at before.
After the seemingly endless ride, a voice sounded from out of the darkness. Dim shadowy figures could be seen moving among the trees. “Halt! Who rides this night?” The voice was speaking the King’s Tongue. The three riders halted, and the man in front, with relief in his voice, shouted, “Pug of Crydee!”
30
UPHEAVAL
Kulgan sat quietly.
It was a reunion tempered with sadness. Pug stood near Lord Bornc’s bed, openly showing his grief as the dying Duke smiled wanly up at him. Lyam, Brucal, and Meecham waited a short way off, speaking softly, and Katala distracted William while the Duke and Pug spoke.
Bornc’s voice came softly, weak from his illness, and his face contorted with pain as he struggled for breath. “I am glad to see you . . . returned to us, Pug. And doubly glad to see your wife and child.” He coughed, and a foam appeared at the corner of his mouth, flecked with blood.
Katala’s eyes were tearing, for the open affection her hu
sband held for this man touched her. Borric motioned toward Kulgan, and the stout magician came to stand next to his former pupil. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Borric whispered, and Kulgan turned to Meecham “Will you see Katala and the boy to our tent? Laurie and Kasumi are waiting there.”
Katala threw Pug a questioning look, and he nodded Meecham had already picked up the boy, who regarded him with some skepticism. When they had left, Borric struggled to sit higher, and Kulgan helped him, placing pillows behind his back. The Duke coughed loudly and long, his eyes clenched tightly shut from pain.
When at last he could breathe again, he sighed, then spoke slowly.
“Pug, do you remember when I rewarded you for saving Carline from the trolls?” Pug nodded, afraid to speak for the emotions he felt. Borric continued, “Do you remember my promise of another gift?” Again Pug nodded. “Would that Tully were here to give it to you now, but I will tell you in brief. I have long thought the Kingdom wastes one of its greatest resources by regarding magicians as outcasts and beggars. Kulgan’s faithful service over the years has shown me I was right. Now you return, and though I understand only a little of what you’ve told, I can see you have become a master of your arts. It was my hope you would, for I have had a vision.
“I had left a sum of gold in trust for you, against the day you became a master magician. With it, I would like you and Kulgan, and other magicians, to establish a center for learning, where all may come and share. Tully will give you the documents with my instructions, explaining in detail my design. But for now I can only ask: Will you accept this charge? Will you build an academy for the study of magic and other knowledge?”
Pug nodded, tears in his eyes. Kulgan stood agape, not trusting what he had heard His fondest wish, his life’s ambition, shared with the Duke in the idle hours of speaking of dreams over cups of wine, was now granted.
Borric began to cough again, then when the fit passed, said, “I hold title to an island, in the heart of the Great Star Lake, near Shamata. When this war is at last done, go there and build your academy Perhaps someday it will be the greatest center for learning in the Kingdom.”
Again the Duke was racked by coughing, the sound more terrible than before. He gasped after the attack, barely able to talk. He motioned for Lyam to come close, pointed to Pug, and said, “Tell him,” then fell back upon his pillows.
Lyam swallowed hard, fighting back the tears, and spoke to Pug. “When you were taken by the Tsurani, Father wished for some memorial in remembrance. He considered what would be proper, for you had shown bravery on three occasions, twice saving Kulgan’s life in addition to my sister’s. He judged the only thing you lacked was a name, for none knew your parentage. So he ordered a document drawn up and sent to the Royal Archives, inscribing your name on the rolls of the family conDoin, adopting you into our house.” Lyam forced a smile. “I only wish times were gladder to share such news with you.”
Overcome with emotion, Pug sank to his knees at the Duke’s side. He took the Duke’s hand and kissed his signet, unable to speak. Softly Borric said, “I could be no more proud of you than were you my own son.” He gasped for breath. “Bear our name with honor.”
Pug squeezed the once powerful hand, now weak and limp. Bornc’s eyes began to close, and he struggled for breath. Pug released his hand, and the Duke motioned for all to come closer. Even old Brucal was red-eyed as they waited for the Duke’s life to slip away.
To Brucal he whispered, “You are witness, old companion.”
The Duke of Yabon raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly toward Kulgan. “What does he mean?”
Kulgan said, “He wishes you to witness his dying declaration. It is his right.”
Borric looked at Kulgan and said, “Care for all my sons, old friend. Let the truth be known.”
Lyam said to Kulgan, “Why does he say ‘all my sons’? What truth?”
Kulgan stared at Borric, who nodded weakly. The magician’s words came quietly. “Your father acknowledges his eldest son, Martin.”
Lyam’s eyes grew wide. “Martin?”
Borric’s arm shot out in a sudden surge of strength, catching at Lyam’s sleeve. He pulled Lyam to him and whispered, “Martin is your brother. I have wronged him, Lyam. He is a good man, and well do I love him.” To Brucal he croaked a single word, “Witness!”
Brucal nodded. With tears streaming down into his white moustache, he swore, “So do I, Brucal, Duke of Yabon, bear witness.”
Suddenly Borric’s eyes went blank. His death rattle sounded deep in his chest, and he lay still.
Lyam fell to his knees and wept, and the others also let their grief come unrestrained. Never to Pug had a moment been so bittersweet.
That night it was a quiet group in the tent that Meecham had commandeered for Pug and his family. The news of Borric’s death had cast a pall over the camp, and much of Kulgan’s joy at seeing his apprentice returned safely had been blunted. The day slowly passed, with everyone becoming reacquainted, though they spoke softly and felt little joy. Occasionally one would leave the tent, wandering off to be alone with his thoughts for a while. Nine years of history had been exchanged slowly, and now Pug spoke of his flight from the Empire.
Katala kept one eye on William, who lay curled up on a bed with one arm thrown over Fantus. The firedrake and the boy had taken one look at each other and decided they were friends. Meecham sat by the cook fire, watching the others carefully Laurie and Kasumi sat on the floor, Tsurani fashion, while Pug finished his narrative.
Kasumi was the first to speak. “Great One, how is it that you could leave the Empire now, and not before?”
Kulgan raised one eyebrow. He was still absorbing the changes in his former apprentice. This talk of Greater Path and Lesser Path was still difficult to understand, and he couldn’t believe the Tsurani attitude toward the boy. He amended that, the young man.
“After my confrontation with the Warlord, it became clear to me that I would serve the Empire by leaving, for my continued presence could only bring divisiveness at a time the Empire needs to heal itself. The war must be ended, and peace established, for the Empire is being drained.”
“Aye,” added Meecham, “as is the Kingdom. Nine years of war are bleeding us dry.”
Kasumi was equally discomforted by the casual tone these people took toward Pug. “Great One, what if the Emperor cannot stop the new Warlord? The council will surely be quick to elect one.”
“I don’t know, Kasumi. I will then have to try to close the rift.”
Kulgan pulled long on his pipe, then blew a thick cloud. “I am still not clear on everything you have said, Pug. From what you have said, I can see nothing that will prevent them from opening another rift.”
“There is nothing, except that rifts are unstable things. There is no way to control where a rift will go; it was mere chance that caused the one between this world and Kelewan. Once that one was established, others could follow, as if the path between the two worlds acted to other rifts like a lodestone to metal.
“The Tsurani could attempt to re-establish the rift, but each attempt would probably take them to other, new worlds. If they returned here, it would be by the merest chance, one in thousands. If the rift is closed, it would be years before they returned, if ever.”
“From what you said about the Warlord’s taking his own life,” said Kulgan, “can we expect a respite in the fighting?”
It was Kasumi who answered. “I fear not, friend Kulgan, for I know this Warlord’s Subcommander. He is Minwanabi, a proud family from a powerful clan, and it would serve his cause well when the High Council meets for his clan to bring word of a great victory. Most likely he will attack in force within days.”
Kulgan shook his head. “Meecham, you had best ask Lord Lyam to join us; he must hear this.” The tall franklin rose and left the tent.
Kasumi frowned. “I have come to know this world a little, and I agree with the Great One. Peace would surely profit us both, but I do not
see it coming.”
The young Duke followed Meecham into the tent a few minutes later, and Kasumi repeated his warning. “We had best be ready, then, for the attack,” said Lyam.
Kasumi looked uncomfortable. “Lord, I must beg your pardon, but should fighting come, I cannot stand against my own people. May I have your permission to return to my own lines?”
The Duke considered this, and Pug noticed that his face was becoming lined with the strain of command. Gone were the laughing eyes and ever present smile. Now he resembled his father more than ever “I understand. I will order you passed through the lines, if I have your parole that you will repeat nothing you have heard here.”
Kasumi agreed and rose to leave. Pug stood also and said, “I will issue one last order to you, Kasumi, as a magician of Tsuranuanni. Return to your father, for he has need of you. One more soldier dying will aid your nation little.”
Kasumi bowed his head. “Your will, Great One.”
Kasumi embraced Laurie and left with Lyam.
Kulgan said, “You have told me so much that is difficult to absorb I think for now we had best retire, for I feel the need of resting.”
As the old magician rose, Pug said to him, “There is one thing I have been waiting to ask. What of Tomas?”
“Your childhood friend is well and with the elves of Elvandar. He is a warrior of great renown, as he had wished to be.”
Pug smiled. “I am glad to hear that Thank you.”
Kulgan, Laurie, and Meecham bade them good night and left Katala said, “Husband, you are tired. Come rest.”
Pug crossed over to the bed she sat upon “You amaze me. You have been through so much tonight, and yet you fret about me.”
She took his hand “When I am with you, everything is as it should be. But you look as if the weight of the world sits upon you.”
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