by Lyndon Hardy
Alodar looked down the path and saw Beliac's slow approach to the library's entrance, his chin deep on his chest and every step reluctant.
As the magician passed, Alodar removed the cork from the flask and grimaced at the foul odor which arose from it. With a sweeping motion, he tipped his head back and downed its contents, feeling a raw, rasping sting all the way down to his stomach. His throat would be monstrously sore for a week afterwards, he knew, but Saxton's craft was never particularly concerned about the aftereffects of its potent brews.
Beliac drew abreast of the immobile acolyte and Alodar pursed his lips to speak.
"Good riddance, pompous windbag," Duncan seemed to say. "I hope they see fit to take back the robe of black as well as denounce your ideas." The voice was high and sluggish, Alodar thought, but no one would doubt that Duncan had spoken. The elixir of ventriloquism worked well indeed.
Beliac stopped his pacing and looked up in disbelief. "Well move along," Alodar projected. "You may as well get it over with."
"See here, acolyte," Beliac replied. "The affairs of the chamber are no concern of yours, in spite of what you have surmised from our previous converse. And mark you well, regardless of what happens there, I will emerge with the unbroken circle on my robe still, more than a match for any acolyte in the Guild, no matter how lofty an opinion he holds of himself. None of your station dare address me thus."
"And in truth you are correct, O sage," Alodar said in his own voice as he stepped from his hiding place and out onto the walkway. "By a combination of the arts of thaumaturgy and alchemy, I made appear what was not so. Acolyte Duncan, of course, never of his own free will would make such statements."
"Then it is you, neophyte, who will feel the wrath of my punishment when I have time to deal with the matter," Beliac snapped in reply. "What is your name and station within the Guild?"
"My demonstration was for a most pointed purpose," Alodar persisted. "I believe that you have a need for the control of another's voice and posture within the very next hour. That I can offer to you."
Beliac's eyes brightened with comprehension. "Ah, what you say is true, most clever lad. Quickly now, inform me of the ritual by which this is done and I will reward you in due proportion."
"As I have said," Alodar replied. "It is not of magic, but the other arts. I must be present to perform, else it cannot become so."
"A neophyte in the apex. Unthinkable!" Beliac growled. "Give me the ritual or face my wrath on the spot."
"My presence or nothing," Alodar said coldly looking into the angered eyes of the magician. "Decide now or let the opportunity slip from your grasp."
Beliac was silent for a long moment and then flung his arm in hasty beckoning. "Very well, come along. We will deal with your lack of respect later."
Alodar returned quickly to the bush, ran his fingers over the waxen eyes and laid the doll out on the ground. He bounded back beside Beliac, not even bothering to check Duncan's apparently slumbering form nearby.
Beliac extended the ring on his left hand and aligned its intricate design of miniature planes and cubes into a mating indentation in the slab in front of them. A moment passed with Beliac's hand rigidly extended forward, but there was no motion in the slab.
"Oh by the postulates, calm yourself man," Beliac muttered to himself. "It will not do for one of Lectonil's lackeys to see me so agitated that I cannot work the outer door." He took a deep breath and then another and pressed his ring more firmly into the slot. The rock parted at a line that Alodar had not detected, and they stepped into a small alcove.
"Here, since you are uninitiated, you must wear a talisman to calm the watcher." Beliac shoved his ring into another slot to his left. A small drawer extended from the wall and Beliac withdrew an ornate chain of gold braid and placed it about Alodar's neck. He then used the ring a third time to part the door at the rear of the alcove, and they entered the library proper.
Alodar's eyes darted greedily about as they passed down the center aisle towards a stairwell in the very center of the large square. Unlike the subdivision into many small rooming cubicles of the hall of the initiates, no intervening construction blocked his view.
The entire floor was covered with neat rows of desks and study benches, most occupied by figures robed in white and gray. From all four of the gently sloping walls, shelf after shelf of books, scrolls, and manuscripts cantilevered out into the study area. Alodar gazed up the spiral of the stairs to where they finally disappeared in a small ceiling area crowded by the four wall planes that converged to it. At regular distances along the flight upwards, catwalks radiated outwards from the wall and ran unsupported from below to join the spiral. At each level a second walkway circumscribed the interior and gave access to still more shelves of magical knowledge.
Alodar smiled with satisfaction. This was where he must search for an explanation of the power of the spheres.
They reached the stairwell, Beliac pressed his hand to the base of the banister, and they began to climb. Alodar's brown robe caught the attention of many who studied below, but Beliac's one of black silenced any questions. The long ascent was uneventful; no clanging bells or slamming barricades added to the sound of their tread.
"I would think the library to be more highly guarded than the hall of the initiates," Alodar said as they climbed. "Yet it would seem a knife in your ribs in exchange for your ring would imperil all the secrets here."
"The magic in my ring encompasses more than just the parting of the slab, neophyte," Beliac replied with a slight wheeze. "That ring was formed as part of the same ritual that exchanged my gray robe for black. Off my hand it is powerless, worth only the few brandels of silver of which it is made. It works for me and me alone, as do the thirteen carried by the other magicians of the Guild."
"Then that same knife might prompt you to use the ring to gain my entrance, just as you have done of your own free will. The result would be the same."
"As I said, neophyte, a ring most magical," Beliac continued. "It is attuned to me and to me alone, but in a state of mind of reasonable tranquillity. If I am stressed, it will not work and fear for my life would render it useless. You saw how I had to calm my slight anger to effect our passage. No, there is no way into the library save by the will of a master magician. But enough of my craft. At the moment, I am more concerned with yours.
"When we enter I shall greet first the one you are to control. Let him be until we are to vote on the elevation of Duncan to the black robe, and then have him vote yes. Can you indeed effect this?"
"If within the next hour, before my powers for voice casting subside, yes," Alodar answered. "And I will need in addition something from his body. A hair perhaps will be the easiest to secure."
"Hmmm, yes," Beliac said, touching his fingers to his lips. "That I can arrange. Be ready for it when the opportunity arises. But, hold, we are at the portal to the apex."
Beliac stopped and placed his ring against the ceiling and an opening formed as it had on the ground level. Following the magician's lead, Alodar rose the last few steps and entered the top of the pyramid.
Unlike the giant room below, the apex was windowed, but the openings did little to alleviate the cramped feeling of the four walls sloping to a point overhead. A large, U-shaped table filled the room. Wedged between it and the wall behind sat the other thirteen magicians of the Guild.
"What illogic is this?" Lectonil's voice boomed against the walls. "Beliac does try all patience to bring a neophyte into the council chamber." He looked at Alodar and his eyes widened in recognition. "And one such as this will fill your ears with lies when we discuss what transpired in the hall of initiates. Take him out before his words taint our reason."
Beliac waved his speaker to silence and moved to the wall not blocked by the table. He turned to the left and squeezed behind the seated magicians, motioning Alodar to follow.
"Well, what explanation do you have for this?" Lectonil persisted. "I have monitored the work of this man b
efore. He has no need to be concerned with things magical." He looked Alodar in the eye. "And I seriously doubt that his motivations are for the good of the secrets of the Guild."
Beliac ignored the challenge, and turned instead to the magician next to the empty seat. "Why, Fulmbar," he said, "you look in fine spirits for this council. Does it perhaps foreshadow that you have reconsidered your change in stand? No, do not answer now. Save your surprise for the vote. I first must deal with master Lectonil, as vocal as ever."
Beliac took the empty seat and glared across the table to his adversary on the other side of the room. "I brought the neophyte to induce just such an outcry as you have made, Lectonil. It betokens the illogical panic in your thought, the fear of losing some prerogatives of your station by the slightest liberalization of our rules and conduct. His presence here is in no way connected with what happened in the hall of initiates."
Lectonil frowned at Beliac's words but then rapidly recovered. "We are all well aware of the way you twist the most innocent statements to your own purposes," he said. "A neophyte should be denied access to the apex, not because of illogical fear but firm deduction of what the consequences might be. Now if you have done with your theatrics, send the man back to his duties and let us consider the business at hand."
"He remains for the purpose that I have called him here," Beliac said. "I will not be badgered by your stern words."
"By the laws!" Lectonil's face grew red with rage. "Your statement summarizes the entire basis of your thinking. Loose and careless with no respect for your seniors. Do you not know that this Guild was founded and flourished on rigor? Rigor in postulate and proof, not a wave of the hand, an approximate result, a truncated expression. If we follow such thinking, we follow it to our doom, Beliac, and so long as I can balance the diagonals of a square, I shall fight with pride to have such thought purged from, the consideration of our council."
"The times have changed, old man," Beliac responded unruffled by the heat of Lectonil's words. "Such rigidity might have worked in centuries past when kingdoms were large and their treasures vast. We could afford to invest all our efforts in monumental magic, knowing that there would be some buyer for the goods when we had finished. But look at our transactions recently. We labored hard to produce ink of purity in lots greater than a gill. But what has happened? The liquid lies unused in some storeroom. No alchemist comes forward with sufficient gold to claim it. We spend a goodly share of our endowment yearly just to supply your two precious wyverns with the meats that keep their scales tight and well fitting. And to what purpose? So that we may in thirty years have a ring of transportal. What monarch can possibly afford what it has taken us to produce it? And yes, more to the point, look at our annual outlays. Will the Guild even be here in thirty years to complete the ritual?"
"It is your sloppy ways and little dabblings that squander our endowment," Lectonil said. "And with them you somehow hope to change the course of centuries. But have you not the depth of thought to see that it cannot be? The Maxim of Persistence still guides, Beliac. As you have apparently forgotten, simply stated, it says 'perfection is eternal.' Perfection, Beliac, perfection. Not some convenient approximation. If we do not use the proper steps and follow them exactly, we will become nothing more than expensive alchemists with gold rings that turn to tin if you rub them but once. The everlasting quality of our work will be but myth for the sagas."
"I am as well versed in the fundamental laws as you, Lectonil," Beliac replied. "In fact, judging from the relative number of monographs the two of us have circulated in the last year, I would say I am more in tune with the true meaning of our law than you. At your zenith you may have discovered some interesting rituals, but I fear you are now far past your prime in productivity and in judgment."
"If I may interject a few words, most august masters," one of the other magicians interrupted. "Master Lectonil, I fear you disparage young Beliac here greatly. He does not compose the ritual elements into magic squares, it is true, but his constructions in three dimensions are made with equal rigor and have produced new objects and lines of research undreamed of just ten years ago."
"Undreamed of and unwanted," Lectonil snapped. "Of what use are twelve elements that seem to fit together into a dodecahedron whole if the result is only a ring that ties one's bootstraps?"
"Now you are most unfair." Beliac shouted for the first time. "That ritual was merely the first example. I dare say that the first square produced results no more inspiring. The field is young but in time we will have objects that are totally outside the reach of such well traveled avenues as square construction, be they trimagic, panmagic or symmetric."
"Masters, if you please," another rumbled. "Our ears tire of such discourse. We are here at master Lectonil's calling to decide on the petition to elevate acolyte Duncan to the status of master magician, and we need not hide behind philosophical rhetoric. We can all count. If the majority backs master Beliac's petition, then future councils no longer will be evenly divided. If we vote the proposition down, it indicates clearly that master Beliac no longer can muster sufficient strength to cause deadlock. In either case, the work of the Guild will proceed."
"The first issue before us, master Zinted," Lectonil said, "is the presence of the neophyte. He must be removed and then Beliac must be censured for jeopardizing the secrets of the Guild."
"By the traces, Lectonil," Beliac said, "we have said nothing to compromise our heritage and methods. Look I prove it to you."
Beliac turned to Alodar and continued his explanation, "As you may have gathered from our discourse, the making of a magical object is a matter of performing a ritual, a ritual that is perfect in some well defined sense. Possible ritual elements, the ringing of a bell, drawing of a bow and so on all have different ritualistic attributes and numerical values. In our research, we strive to arrange and order these elements in such a way that a perfect sequence is obtained. Such sequences produce objects indeed most magical.
"One such mechanism of arrangement and a successful one, I freely admit, is to order the elements in a square in such a way that certain of the numerical values of their attributes sum in the same way whether considered horizontally, vertically or diagonally. Once these conditions are satisfied, one performs the ritual, taking the elements in sequence row by row.
"Now I have told you much more than you could deduce from what we have said and I will add one thing more. Pluck a hair from master Fulmbar's crown. There, you have performed the first step in a ritual of no mean potency. How do you proceed now?"
"Why I have no idea," Alodar responded as he drew his hand into the folds of his robe and planted the hair into a second wax doll he had strapped to his waist. "You have told me some principles but with no instruction on the values of the elements or how to assemble them, I cannot proceed."
"As is obvious to any with clear wit in this room; he knows less than what one could pick up through idle gossip in the neophyte's tower. I further submit that our decision on Duncan will be common knowledge in the esplanade within the hour in any case. No secret has been revealed by what transpires here, so let us proceed. Besides, master Lectonil, do you wish me time to change further the minds of our assemblage here or do you prefer to have our collective decision recorded so the Guild may proceed?"
"You are ready for the vote on Duncan now, and did not bring this neophyte because of my stand on the ritual of presence?" Lectonil asked.
"As I said, the neophyte is here merely to illustrate my position," Beliac replied. "It is to be Duncan first, and if there is no deadlock, then the rest will naturally follow."
Lectonil twisted his face further but at last waved his arm to begin and said no more. The magician on his left stood and formally stated the resolution before them. At its conclusion, he cast his negative vote and sat down. The counting began to move around the table. Alodar quickly muttered the incantation while the eyes and ears of the assemblage were on each speaker. He broke the small vial of caustic soda f
rom his underbelt into the oil of vitriol and felt the heat begin to rise in his hand. He looked about, but cramped and shielded by Beliac's chair, no one paid him any heed.
Beliac rose and voted, and Alodar began to manipulate the little waxen image. Fulmbar seemed unsteady and awkward as he stood, but the strangeness was lost in the murmur of disbelief that followed his vote.
"What manner of substitution is this?" Lectonil shouted out above the rest. "You have wavered from time to time surely, Fulmbar, but you assured me not an hour ago that your vote was switched to be mine. It is for that reason alone that I called for the extraordinary session."
"I have indicated my choice and say no more," Alodar projected through Fulmbar as he made the magician slump back down onto his chair. The magician in the seat immediately adjacent sprang up and cast his affirmative vote, apparently to insure that Fulmbar would have no change of heart. In a moment the vote was finished, once again a seven to seven tie.
"Well, well," Beliac chuckled. "It appears, master Lectonil, that we are back to more individual sessions of persuasion. I suggest that you not call the council to session unless you are more sure that a productive decision will result. Until then, it seems our time will be better spent on research, instruction, and meetings at the usual hours. I wish, however, that you remain a moment, master Fulmbar, so that I may thank you for your enlightened change of heart."
With no further words, the magicians rose and filed to the exit in the center of the room. Lectonil left last, glaring at his opponent and frowning at the placid figure of Fulmbar at his side.
"And now, neophyte," Beliac said, "we must secure master Fulmbar away out of the reaches of Lectonil until I can devise a means of persuading yet another vote."
"And once we have done that," Alodar said, "then might we discuss the matter of the reward for the service I have provided you?"