by Lyndon Hardy
In an instant, Alodar's hand grip was secure, but he was diagonally stretched across the face of the pyramid, holding on with opposite arm and leg fully extended. Slowly he worked his right arm upwards until he could clasp his hands together. Then, abandoning his foothold and pulling so that his arms trembled, he raised his head until the nodule he gripped was at eye level. Carefully, he extended his leg outwards to the left and then smiled with satisfaction when he felt another gemstone beneath his heel.
Other nodules were randomly scattered nearby; in a few minutes, Alodar was resting for a second time, but some ten feet higher than before. Only thirty feet remained until the top, and the grips seemed closer spaced than below. Exercising increased caution as he moved higher, he gained the level of the apex in another half hour.
Alodar peered in through the square opening and saw the back of a heavy tapestry blocking out the wind and starlight. He reached into his pack and withdrew the small disk of metal that he had received from Cynthia and clasped it firmly in his left hand. No grillwork or shutters barred his entrance. Pushing his arm in front, he squirmed through the window and thrust the curtain aside.
He dropped to the floor silently and stood frozen for a moment more. No bells sounded in alarm at his presence. Alodar waited a full minute and then another. Nothing stirred and only his own breathing broke the absolute quiet. Cautiously he lit a small candle and looked about in the flickering light. The room was as he had seen it before, cramped and unfurnished except for the U-shaped table that crowded about its periphery.
Alodar slowly moved to the portal in the floor that led to the library proper, expecting at each step to trigger the watchbells. He grasped the latch and pulled the door open, staring into the blackness below.
The candlelight showed the first rungs of the staircase that spiraled downwards to the floor, but Alodar did not place his foot on the first tempting step. The magicians let the lower orders into the library and then left them unattended. Something kept them from using the stairway. Indeed, Beliac had pressed his ring against the banister before they had started their climb.
Uncoiling the rope from his pack, he secured it to one of the legs of the massive table and let the other end fly downward into the darkness. He grasped the rope awkwardly, not trusting to remove the golden disk from his palm. Slowly, he let himself down hand over hand in the midst of the spiral, gradually loosing his sense of height in the blackness. Methodically, he descended a foot at a time, unmindful of how far he had traveled and how far yet to go.
His reverie was suddenly broken by the sharp contact of solid stone beneath his feet. He released his grasp of the rope and stood upright in exultation. He had gained the library floor.
Alodar relit the candle and let his eyes grow accustomed to its meager light. All about the four walls books, scrolls, and manuscripts were neatly stacked, beckoning with the secrets of the magicians. He quickly scanned the vast arrays of knowledge and saw in the north corner scrolls tossed in a disarray uncharacteristic of the order of the rest. He walked over to the pile and lifted the first one from the heap.
"Helices and spirals, tier four; Heptagons, tier three; Hexagonal symmetries and tiles, tier fourteen," he read aloud softly. "The index, precisely what I need."
He shuffled through the coiled manuscripts until he found the one that alluded to his metal spheres. "Tier seven," he mumbled and counted off the cases from where he stood. Several minutes later, after carefully scrutinizing titles in the dimness, he found what he sought and wrenched the book from its place on the shelf.
Cracking it in the middle, he held the exposed pages to the light and mouthed what he read.
"The two spheres of Dandelin are tangent to the ellipse at points one and two respectively and touch the cone along parallel circles. If we join the point of presence to the points of tangency and also the line connecting with the vertex, these lines will all lie entirely on the surface of the cone."
Alodar snapped the book shut, set it back in the rack, and exhaled a deep sigh. The secret of the spheres would not be a single night's work, he reasoned sadly. Time would have to be spent with some fundamentals before be could even begin to understand what he needed to know. The general education that took an initiate through acolyte to magician would not be necessary; he could focus on only those things necessary. Still, the walls of the library would have to be scaled many times before he was through with his task.
Moving with considerably less haste back to the index tier, Alodar began to search for the first reference text of the beginning initiate.
"And Cynthia disappeared without a trace as well," Hypeton babbled on. "She has been missing nearly a month, yet both sides avow no knowledge of her, but accuse instead the other of misdeed. The tension virtually pulls the Guild asunder."
Alodar nodded sleepily in reply and pulled closed his entrance curtain as the other neophyte departed. He worked with dedicated effort by day so no attention would be drawn to him, but even more diligently at night as he delved into the secret of the spheres. The ascent was by now a mere routine and most of the evening could be spent in study. Still, the intensity with which be concentrated and the strain of anticipated discovery took their toll as surely as the labors of the day. At least tonight would be the last, Alodar thought slowly, his weariness suppressing even the excitement of the occasion. He knew enough now about this one facet of magic to start the ritual that would release the power of the spheres. He shouldered his pack and looked about the cubicle. The paraphernalia a for the evening and everything that he would need for a hasty journey were packed and ready. If all went well, the sun would find him free of the Guild and on the road north back to Ambrosia.
He crossed the courtyard quickly and soon was at the base of the library, grasping for his first handhold with a grip made familiar from much practice. In scarcely ten minutes he was at the top and through the curtains into the deserted council chamber.
Alodar lit his small candle as before, but this time did not move to the doorway in the center of the floor. Instead he carefully spread a silken scarf along the surface of the table and removed from his pack the small box which contained his treasure. He opened the lid and felt immediately the aura of power that coursed up from his fingertips to permeate his entire body.
He removed the scraps of parchment that contained his notes from the previous evenings of study. Everything he needed should be here; but if not, he could descend to the floor below and consult with the texts.
He scanned the notes twice quickly and then began the ritual. Placing copper rings on each of his fingers, he grasped a small incense coffer with his left hand and immersed it in the flame of his candle with his right. The perfume began to well upwards into the small confines of the room; in a minute, it was almost overpowering with its sweetness.
Alodar stood immobile as the smell penetrated his nostrils and filled his lungs. Concentrating not to cough, he counted heartbeats to one hundred thirty-seven and then struck a small triangle hung from a tiny frame with the copper ring on his index finger. The chime sounded shrilly and, rather than dying away, rang in resonance with the structure of the ritual as it began to take shape.
Alodar listened only half attentively as he pondered the step to perform next. But as he thought, he gradually grew aware of a slight tingling that crept along the base of his scalp. His skin prickled as if scraped by a dull razor and a slight twitch tugged at his left eye. At first it was only an annoyance to be shut out of his concentration, but the feeling grew in intensity and began to move over his head and down his neck to the rest of his body. He shuddered involuntarily and felt a chill in his arms and lees. The triangle still hummed, but rather than diminishing as it should, the tone deepened and grew in power. The heavy table began to hum, and echoes bounced back and forth off the sloping walls. Alodar raised his hands to his ears as the sound suddenly increased to deafening proportions and the small band of metal grew red hot from the force with which it vibrated through the air.
Something was obviously wrong. Alodar thought slowly, his mind dimmed by the fury of the noise. Some other ritual was being enacted and interfering with his magic here.
Before he could think more, the doorway in the floor suddenly flew open, bathing the chamber with light from the library below.
Lectonil leaped up into the council room, and two other magicians panted after. "As I suspected," he said, "Beliac's deceit with the Guild is most complete. Despite his protests, he traffics our secrets even to the neophytes who would support him.
"Bring them forward," he motioned to the black-robed followers. "Let Beliac bite on the fact that it is the ritual of presence that has led us to the last of his crew of traitors."
The shrieking stopped and Alodar felt his thoughts clear in a rush. He immediately dropped the triangle to the floor with a clatter and reached to scoop up his spheres.
"Hold, neophyte, it is enough," Lectonil commanded and clapped his gloved hands together. A bolt of jagged yellow jumped from his palms and shot towards Alodar with a blinding flash. Before Alodar could respond, he felt his arms thrift apart and backwards and his whole body suddenly lifted and slammed into the wall. As a sharp explosive report echoed around the small chamber, his breath rushed out and his vision clouded from the force of the blow.
"Trifle not with a master magician, neophyte." Lectonil glared at him. "Especially one with the gloves of thunder."
Alodar opened his mouth to speak; but before he could, Beliac's voice rumbled forth from the stairway.
"And to what purpose do you rouse me from my studies, Lectonil?" he asked. "The protocols must be observed, I insist. There is no basis for council meeting without the notice of two full days to bring all rituals in progress to a satisfactory halt. Your prattle about the danger to the remaining wyvern can surely wait a fortnight."
"It is for a far more serious matter than the safety of a dragon that we are here, Beliac," Lectonil replied. "We convene tonight to judge the most serious charge of treason. Look, we have even caught your neophyte in the practice of ritual. Such disregard for the traditions cannot be condoned, regardless of the ends you think they serve."
Beliac looked across the room to where Alodar lay and then stared at the two spheres still sitting in the small box on the table. "I know not in what foul practice this neophyte engages," he said, "but it is without my council or direction. I have had no discourse with him since he was in this chamber over a month ago. I say as you that he should be punished for his deeds. Bring forth the mirror of inversion and let us be done with it. His crime is none of mine."
"Ah, but it is, Beliac," Lectonil persisted. "I would not have acted so precipitously this night had I not first solved the riddle of that last meeting when your follower was present. Bring in the other one and let us confront them," he said turning to the doorway.
Duncan was abruptly pushed into the chamber, a look of bewilderment on his face. Following him came another black-robed magician.
"Fulmbar," Beliac said in surprise as his peer entered.
"Yes, Beliac," the magician replied with hate dripping from his voice. "With the aid of Lectonil's acolytes, I am free at last of your bondage of this past month. And I have told them all of your conduct the last time I sat in this chamber. It is true I would have voted against you that day, but in the past I supported you as the issue merited. And had you stood by the honor of the master, I might have followed your cause yet again. But your deeds with the neophyte have cleared my indecision and firmed my resolve. I anxiously await the council vote on the form of your de-elevation."
"But wait," Beliac interrupted, with a shade of panic beginning to tinge his voice. "I acted in the desperation of the moment and no ritual magic was used in what I did. A minor transgression worthy of small censure at the most."
"Enough of the pleading, Beliac." Lectonil waved the protest aside as the rest of the magicians began to file in. "The case against you is tight. Your neophyte was caught in mid-ritual, working your will. Tell us now what you had planned, else your punishment will be all the harder."
"But…" Beliac's eyes rapidly searched the faces of his peers for signs of sympathy. "I know nothing of the dabbling in which this neophyte engages."
"Very well, then," Lectonil said. "Perhaps the neophyte himself will not be so guarded. What do you say about your deed tonight?"
"I work with the pair of spheres before you," Alodar answered, as he slowly rose to his feet. "The one is smooth and the other circumscribed by one great circle."
The assembled magicians followed Alodar's extended hand to the table. "Could they be spheres of protection?" one of them gasped. "Most rare and valuable objects indeed. The work of an eon before they were truly formed and ready."
"By the laws, Beliac, this is most undisciplined! The uninitiated should not traffic with such potencies. He might start one to activate before he knows what he is doing."
"As for example, by striking a triangle of discord," Alodar said, holding out the small instrument he had used minutes before.
Lectonil's mouth dropped when he saw what was in Alodar's hand. He reached out to touch the first sphere and then quickly withdrew with an involuntary yelp.
"They have started," he said, eyes suddenly wide. "Quickly man, how long have you been at this? We must know how much time remains."
Alodar frowned in puzzlement over the magician's sudden concern. He reviewed the steps that remained and the significance of each.
"But of course," he said aloud at last. "The power within the spheres has already been disturbed from their mold. Either we run the spells to completion or they will explode of their own volition with cataclysmic force."
Several of the magicians broke their ranks behind Beliac and began to jostle one another for position in the doorway.
Lectonil retreated a step in hesitation and then called after the fleeing members of the guild.
"Wait," he said shakily. "We must stay and resolve what to do. We cannot abandon the spheres. Their release will damage our chambers beyond repair and perhaps our heritage below as well. The ritual must be worked to completion."
"Then stay and work it yourself," the magician closest to the door yelled out. "It is you who burns most with the fire to confront Beliac with his deeds."
Lectonil backed another step from the table, but then stopped.
"Hold your positions," he commanded with more composure. "We can handle the situation with but little danger to ourselves. Bring forward the acolyte. He should know enough to complete what must be done."
Two of Lectonil's followers thrust Duncan forward to face the master.
Lectonil's face parted in a cruel smile. "So you wish the status of the magician, do you, Duncan?" he asked. "Then you can show your proficiency to us by completing the ritual of Cantor on these spheres. Surely you have memorized what is to be done."
Duncan's eyes darted to Beliac and back to Lectonil. "I have studied it, master," he said. "But the events of this evening jumble my thoughts. I recall it not. I have had no time to prepare. Please, we know not how much time is left; let us flee."
"Then for you it will be the mirror," Lectonil cut him short. "Unless you search your memory and are successful in the recall."
"But I cannot," Duncan protested falling to his knees in frantic supplication.
"Each minute you waste is one less to complete what is to be done," Lectonil said harshly. "Be about it, man, or you doom yourself surely."
Duncan eyed the pack leaning next to where Alodar stood. With trembling hands, he opened the top flap and began to extract the necessary equipment.
"And the time?" Lectonil addressed Alodar again. "How long ago did you start?"
Alodar drew his tongue across a mouth suddenly dry as the impact of the situation sank in. "A full five minutes," he said. "At least that much before the wailing stopped me from going further."
"Quickly, the glasses." Lectonil gestured and one of the magicians opened a drawer in the table. "That le
aves twenty remaining." He watched as a sandclock of the appropriate size was set beside Duncan.
"Now we proceed with caution as follows," Lectonil said "Repair to our chambers until the crisis is past. Guard Beliac until the issue here is resolved. I will remain on the stairwell, watching these two as they proceed. If all goes well, you can rejoin me here. If I judge that insufficient time remains, I will incapacitate them with the gloves of thunder and retreat out of harm's way before the explosion tears the apex asunder. In either case, we will deal with Beliac's treason then."
The magicians mumbled their acquiescence and began to file out of the chamber. Alodar's eyes jumped from Lectonil to Beliac and back, hoping to see an opportunity. Beliac also watched the magicians file out. Suddenly, when four were already on the stair, he bolted forward and shouldered his way in front of those remaining.
"Magicians loyal to the new ways, follow me," he shouted. "We are outnumbered, but they will feel our sting before we are done."
Lectonil turned to the startled black robes who remained. "After them," he shouted. "Subdue them and repair to the chambers as planned."
The magicians pounded down the stairs after the ones who fled. Lectonil looked at Duncan and Alodar and then backed down the stairs until he stood only waist high in the room. As he took his place, a blue flash reflected upwards through the opening, followed by a rolling boom and an anguished scream. In an instant, the walls rocked and vibrated with an answering spasm of subsonic rhythm.
"A gem of blue blindness and the oscillator of life," Lectonil muttered. "It seems that both sides armed themselves well for our confrontation. But no matter, acolyte, tend to your duty."
Another flash burst upwards. Duncan jarred loose from his panic and began to work the magic with the gear from Alodar's pack. With eyes half closed, he rattled off the next steps of the ritual and executed them quickly. The triangle Sang again, three beehive hitches were woven together, feet stomped in a complicated rhythm. Alodar watched fascinated as the acolyte, immersed in his recall, jerked his hands faster with each step, blurring them together in his haste.