The Bohemian Magician

by A. L. Sirois

  “Assuming they would,” said Guilhem drily.

  “All of which,” Oriabel said, ignoring him, “gave me an idea. I moved around the cavern, too quickly for the tatzelwurm to mark, noting where the ‘scent’ of gold was strongest. Once I had decided that the hoard had to be hidden away in a side passage, I deliberately slowed my steps, pausing long enough after each one to attract the creature’s notice and lure it into following me; which it was only too eager to do, seeing as how I seemed to be making my way toward its treasure.

  “Chirruping in evident worry, the tatzelwurm dragged its swollen body after me as quickly as it could. I dashed down the twisting passageway, using my athame to light my way. Within moments I found myself standing at the mouth of a large cavern—but this one was piled high with heaps of coins, jewels, necklaces of gemstones, golden bracelets, old armor, and countless other trinkets. Clearly, the tatzelwurm had been amassing its fortune for many years, if not centuries. Most of the booty was sized for elves or even humans, and was priceless in nixie terms.

  “By the time the creature squeezed into its home, moving as slowly to my senses as a slug crossing a garden path, I had procured armor to fit me, along with an appropriate sword and shield. My thought was to confuse the tatzelwurm by confronting it with something it had not faced in many years: an elf warrior. Such treasure-guarding monsters have long memories; they must, to keep track of their hoard. I reckoned this one would well remember the sharp elf blades it had once faced.

  “Indeed, the beast hesitated at the sight of me, so I knew my surmise must be correct. I gathered up as much of the thing’s stockpile as I could manage and dashed past the tatzelwurm at top speed, far too quickly for it to follow. There were many bags of gold nuggets. To these I paid particular interest because they were easier to transport than relatively bulky crowns or jewelry. I raced back to where Iotapa stood, as motionless to me as a statue, and dumped the heavy gold bags on the ground. Four more times I made the trip to the tatzelwurm’s den, choosing, in my judgment, the most valuable items. Iotapa, I saw on my final trip, had started to realize that riches were appearing at her feet. Then, nearly exhausted by my efforts, I muttered a short spell depriving me of my velocity.

  “Iotapa started violently as I, caparisoned now in elfin armor, suddenly seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The nixie female stared open-mouthed at me.

  “‘Yes, yes, I know,’ I said, ‘I’m a magician or a sorceress or necromancer. But what of it? Some of this is yours, if you want it. Don’t expect me to risk my skin putting it all back in the tatzelwurm’s clutches. Such value is wasted on the thing.’

  “She stared foolishly at me. ‘Mine? How... how did you...?’

  “‘It were better not to ask,’ I said. ‘Simply know that I am faster than a tatzelwurm, and have done.’

  “‘But how will we haul all of this out of the tunnels?’ she asked.

  “‘The same way I stole it from the tatzelwurm,’ I told her. ‘Quickly. Very quickly.’”

  With that Oriabel sat back, and drank deeply from the goblet of wine at her side.

  “There is little more to tell,” she said to Guilhem. “Iotapa and I concocted a story to the effect that I broke through into the tatzelwurm’s lair by pure accident, and was eaten by the thing. While it was busy devouring me, Iotapa fled unharmed. I, then, am thought dead at the jaws of the tatzelwurm.” She smiled, a trifle smugly.

  Guilhem, having finished his breakfast while she talked, said, “If you have indeed secured sufficient gold, then there is no longer any reason for us to tarry here amongst the nixies. Persons. Whatever you call ‘em.”

  “There is ample gold,” she said, grinning. “I have hidden several bags of nuggets under the floorboards of this very house. Do you explain the situation to Uvaxshtra and his brother. I will meanwhile transport the bags to the outskirts of Fagertärn near the way leading up to the ruins of H’lupheka. We can pick them up after we leave. If you wish, we can dig up additional gold when we regain our normal size.”

  Guilhem frowned. “But there are many sentries thereabouts, as well as wandering bands of nixies on the surface, digging for artifacts. We run the risk of being seen. Add to that the fact that gold is heavy to carry.”

  “These problems are not insurmountable,” she said. “Be reassured that with patience we will overcome them.”

  “I will take you at your word, then. What of Iotapa?”

  “I left her to her own devices. I suppose she will retrieve her children and take them to Cáervine, there to live out her life.”

  They then spoke of other matters that might soon become relevant insofar as their plans to leave Queen Kemalíezad’s realm were concerned.

  Before departing the house with the purloined gold, she presented him with a small leather bag of gold nuggets. “Do you use this to bribe your way out of the armed forces,” she said. “If the nixies are one-half as corrupt as I believe them to be, this will be more than sufficient to accomplish the task.”

  Guilhem agreed, and went to see his superior officer, Ariyāramna, who gladly canceled Guilhem’s commission after accepting the small sack of gold. He then shook Guilhem’s hand, spoke admiringly of his bravery and dismissed him, wishing him good fortune.

  A short time later Uvaxshtra presented himself at Guilhem’s door. “You acquitted yourself well in the battles, I am told,” he said to the duke, who merely inclined his head in acknowledgement. “But now, Oriabel, I must give you some bad news,” the nixie went on. “I regret to tell report that your female companion was killed when a tunnel roof collapsed on her in the mines this day.”

  Guilhem chuckled. “Such is not the case,” he said. “Oriabel contrived the cave-in to mask her theft of a tatzelwurm’s gold. Moreover, your sister-in-law Iotapa has been freed, with sufficient gold to enable her to go where she will. Our obligations to your realm have been discharged, in my view, and we now wish to continue our journey.”

  “Your conniving natures are worthy of the Persons! However, I confess that I find your company distressing. Your doings reek of magic.”

  “Perhaps, but without our magic your sister-in-law would yet languish in the treasure tunnels,” Guilhem said, not bothering to soft-pedal his words. “Is that what you would prefer?”

  “Certainly not,” Uvaxshtra said, biting off the words. “Very well, I will accompany you to the borders of our domain as soon as I have assured myself that Iotapa is well.”

  “Good. Now, let us discuss a route we can take out of Fagertärn without being seen.” Noting the worried expression on Uvaxshtra’s face, Guilhem leaned closer to him. “What ails you, friend Uvaxshtra?”

  “I don’t like the use of magic to free Iotopa.” He shook his head. “It’s... unnatural.”

  “Come, come!” Guilhem said heartily, smacking the nixie on the back. “Be of good cheer! No one will know; certes, Iotapa herself will say nothing.”

  “I fear for her spirit,” the nixie muttered.

  Guilhem could not help laughing. “Listen to me, my friend; the Pope himself threatened to have me excommunicated unless I went on Crusade this year. I went, but not because I was worried about my immortal soul, if indeed I have such a thing hidden away in my breast.” He thumped his chest. “I have seen no evidence of it, I confess. No, I went to secure riches, and to seek out adventure.”

  “Perhaps; but you went, all the same. The threat must have carried some weight.”

  Guilhem shrugged, unwilling to give voice to an outright denial; for, despite his insistence to the contrary and his secular and essentially profane life, he had been raised, as were all people, to unquestioningly accept the view that the Church in general and the pope in particular were infallible. The idea of excommunication, therefore, could not help but give him a moment’s pause.

  No longer than that, however.

  Uvaxshtra departed, promising to return soon. Guilhem continued his own preparations for leaving. There was little enough to do. He had no sooner finished set
ting his pack by the door when Oriabel popped into view before him.

  He recoiled. “Kindly give warning before you do that!”

  “My apologies,” she said. “I have transported the gold to a place where it is secure until we fetch it. There is no further reason to delay, is there?”

  “We must wait for Uvaxshtra,” Guilhem said. “He will escort us out of this sodden city.”

  * * *

  Presently Uvaxshtra returned. “All is well,” he proclaimed. “I have seen Iotapa, who assures me that your help was crucial to her, Oriabel. You have both done well by my family and my people.”

  “I am so happy to hear it,” said Guilhem. “I trust that now we can leave your city unnoticed.”

  This turned out to be easily accomplished. Uvaxshtra knew all the byways and paths in and out of Fagertärn, and conduct his charges safely to the city’s outskirts. From there it was a short distance to the surface world.

  They emerged, blinking, in brilliant afternoon sun. Guilhem took a deep breath of the cold, crisp winter air, and laughed in delight. “How wonderful, after so many days of mushrooms and mold!” he cried. “Well then, Mistress Oriabel, let us be on our way!”

  The witch nodded. She lifted her arms as though to cast a spell.

  “Hold!” cried Guilhem. “What do you do there?”

  She paused, wand still aloft. “Why, I am changing us into birds,” she said mildly. “We have far to go, and there is no reason to waste our time slogging along through the snow. Far better that we fly above it.”

  “No, I pray you—I have had enough of transformations for bit! To date on this journey, I have been a cockroach, a leech, and a mosquito. Oh yes, and an otter.”

  Uvaxshtra backed away from them. “I fear that I could not abide having my flesh remolded. Nor do I wish to witness it happening to someone else.”

  The witch said, “Córdoba is many leagues from here. It will take too long to simply walk there, or even ride on horseback. Flying is a much more efficient means of travel.”

  “I don’t care,” said Guilhem. “I want to be human for a while.”

  Uvaxshtra said, “I will leave you to it, then. I cannot say that I have in any sense enjoyed being associated with you two, though I do confess it has been interesting in certain respects.” He sighed. “I wish you well. But I do hope never to see you again.” And with that, he ducked into the tunnel from which they had emerged.

  Oriabel prepared to return them to their normal size, but Guilhem stopped her. “We have no clothing aside from this nixie garb,” he said.

  “It will grow as we grow.” She shrugged. “Would you prefer to be naked?”

  “Not I!”

  Oriabel spoke her incantation, and after a moment of dizziness Guilhem found himself his usual size. He patted himself, sighing with relief. “Much better!” he said.

  “I suppose there’s something to be said for it,” she replied. “Now, we must find Rámon and then fetch the gold.”

  “Indeed. All this cavorting about with nixies has caused us considerable delay.”

  “We had no choice.”

  “I daresay,” Guilhem said dryly. “Well, let us hope that from here out things progress more smoothly. We still have far to go and much to accomplish.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IN WHICH GUILHEM MEETS A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN

  During his mistress’s sojourn among the nixies, Rámon the parrot had been forced to shelter in a hollow tree, cold and shivering, miserably awaiting Oriabel’s return while standing guard over what remained of the humans’ gear. He was overjoyed to see her again. Or so Guilhem inferred from the way the old scoundrel rubbed his beak against Oriabel’s upper arm. Swiftly dressing themselves from what few inadequate scraps and rags of clothing remained in their packs, Oriabel and Guilhem hiked back to where she had secreted the bags of gold nuggets.

  “Now at long last, let us resume our journey,” Guilhem said as he adjusted his pack on his shoulders. “As I recall, the nearest town on this side of the mountains is perhaps a day’s march from here.” He squinted at the sun. “We shan’t make it before nightfall, but we should nevertheless descend as far down out of the mountains as we can while the light lasts. It will be warmer the farther we get from the snow.”

  Rámon, tucked away inside Oriabel’s threadbare cloak, croaked his enthusiastic agreement. “I am weary of being cold, Mama!”

  The witch stroked his head and cooed to him as they set off down the path they had left so many days before. They were forced to spend their first night of freedom in the open, but had the wherewithal to build a fire for warmth. Rising early, they arrived in a small Spanish village around noon. The settlement was a trading outpost situated at a crossroads, and marked the first (or last, depending on which way one was traveling) sign of civilization in the region below the mountains. Here Guilhem, who spoke the language with fair facility, converted some of the nixie gold to Spanish coinage, purchased suitable clothing, and secured lodgings for them.

  They devoured an elaborate meal. At Guilhem’s insistence, none of the dishes contained mushrooms. While they dined, a troubling scent came to Guilhem’s nostrils: a slight odor reminiscent of fairy. He had not sensed anything to compare with it since his accidental encounter with the gnomes. It was not strong—there were no gnomes in the tavern, of course, nor any other obviously supernatural entities—indeed, no stronger than might be expected had a man trod in dog waste and tracked a bit of it inside on his boot; yet it was there. But he ignored it and continued eating. Soon he had forgotten the smell.

  Afterwards, relaxing with flagons of wine, he and Oriabel inspected a map.

  “Here is our goal,” said Guilhem, placing a finger on the paper. “Córdoba. We have hundreds of miles yet to travel before we arrive.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “We can afford, now, to purchase horses replacing the ones we had to leave behind with the...” Here he looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, because the inn’s clientele was a motley lot, comprised of rough-looking men and women. Guilhem suspected that many of them were smugglers at best, if not highwaymen or worse. Nor did the tavern’s brutish attendants inspire confidence. He made sure to keep his sword in plain view so that onlookers would know him to be a seasoned fighting man. “The... you know.” He mouthed wolf-people.

  Oriabel nodded. “As to that,” she said in a low voice, “let me turn us into birds.” She leaned closer to the duke over the table, no more anxious than was he to attract any attention, especially after their encounter with the strigoi. “We will be much safer aloft.”

  Guilhem sighed. “I am sick of wearing the flesh of other creatures, but I suppose it makes sense.”

  “I am pleased to hear you say that. Now hear me: I believe I can transform us into eagles, allowing us to fly farther and faster than falcons. Eagles are in addition strong, and we can carry the bags of nuggets in our claws. But I have never previously attempted to change myself into an eagle, and am uncertain of the exact wording of the required spell.”

  “And can you rectify that problem?”

  “I believe I can, my dear duke.” She grinned, displaying carious teeth. “I know of a woman nearby who is of like persuasion to me: one with an understanding of the magical arts. I will visit her this night and confer with her.” She rose from the table. “To that end, I shall now take my leave. We will meet here tomorrow morning.”

  “Very well,” Guilhem said. “I have no aversion to spending an evening in this place. It seems welcoming enough, and there are other travelers with whom I can pass the time.”

  “Quite so.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Would you care for me to bring Rámon down to keep you company? He will be rather bored up in my room, sitting alone on his perch.”

  “Thank you, no. That will not be necessary.”

  “As you will.” With an inclination of her head, she wended her way through the crowd to the door and vanished through it.

  Guilhem ordered another cruet of w
ine and sat drinking it. Presently one of the other patrons produced an oud and began playing it, rather inexpertly. Almost without thinking about what he was doing, Guilhem, who was familiar with the instrument from his days in the holy land, rose from his seat and approached the man. After a few admiring comments concerning the instrument’s construction and lacquering, he asked to play it, knowing himself to be much the man’s superior in musical skill.

  Guilhem strummed the oud, judging its sound, and adjusting its tuning, for one of the strings in the fourth course was flat. He proceeded to play a melancholy tune that had been popular in Poictiers. When he was finished, a sprinkling of applause rewarded him. He looked around the room, grinning in acknowledgement, and noticed an attractive raven-tressed woman sitting at a table across the room, sitting alone with a glass of wine before her. What an astonishingly lovely creature, he thought. She seems out of place here, with such uncouth companions.

  The woman was among those clapping most enthusiastically. He essayed another song, rather ribald in nature. As he spoke, however, he seemed to feel her across the room. There was something discomfiting about her attention, but he was too occupied by singing and playing the oud to ponder it.

  Upon this song’s completion, the applause was louder. He surrendered the oud to its owner, and returned to his table.

  Guilhem sat with his ale, unable to keep his eyes off the woman at the other table. What was it about her that was so appealing, so—enchanting? He could not make up his mind. Though he had thought her lovely at first, after some examination he decided that, even though her face was indeed well-shaped, with prominent cheekbones and startlingly bright eyes, she was not beautiful in the common sense. In addition to her night-hued hair she had pale skin and a nose that almost seemed too long. Her glance, when she turned it his way as she did several times, each time with a slight smile, seemed somehow to portend passion. Guilhem found himself unaccountably attracted, not to say aroused.