by Allan Cole
And then, as she stepped back from her latest attack on the thorn barrier to catch her breath and wipe perspiration from her brow, Palimak rose to his feet and came over to her.
Without one trace of condescension, he said, "Pardon, Aunt Jooli, but could you help us with this?"
Jooli was amazed. And honored, in an odd sort of way, that Palimak had added the honorific of "aunt" to her name. Instead of all those dreary royal terms like Your Highness, Your Ladyship, and so forth.
Leiria smiled at her as if she knew what was running through Jooli's mind.
Hells, Jooli thought, I'm an aunt to this remarkable young man! What could be better than that?
And then Safar said, "I'm really sorry we've left you out of this, Jooli. The thing is, I recognized your grandmother's hand in this. Her spoor is mixed with that of the deity I call Queen X. And I was reluctant to put you in opposition to your own kin."
He grinned, blue eyes warm and friendly. "Will you forgive me?" he asked. "It wasn't Palimak's fault. He urged, but I resisted. I guess I'm just so much of a family person-being Kyranian and all-that I thought it might cause you pain."
"Nothing to forgive," Jooli said gruffly, surprised at the sudden emotion roughening her voice.
"And if you really need help, I'd be pleased to offer it. Especially if it involves my grandmother. Believe me, there's no love lost between us."
She joined them in their efforts, quickly catching the sense of the spell they were working. And also, after some concentration, she picked up the scent of Queen Clayre's magic-a too-sweet perfume underlying the acrid stench of fire.
Jooli knelt down and brushed aside leaves to make a bare patch of ground. As she talked, she made a sketch with a twig.
"My grandmother likes to use a special table for her magic," she said, drawing the table. "It looks like this
… also, the center is inlaid with golden tiles in the shape of a pentagram."
She sketched in the tiles, making the lines much deeper to give a three-dimensional effect. "Whatever or whoever this deity is that she's made her bargain with, chances are she's been summoned through those tiles."
Jooli looked up at Safar. "If we can break the contact between them-for only for a few seconds, even-we might be able to get through that barrier."
"How do we do that, Aunt Jooli?" Palimak asked.
"Grandmother is a very strong-willed woman," Jooli said. "Even when she's ill, she refuses to acknowledge it. However, there is one thing that drives her mad."
"What's that?" Safar asked.
"Capsicum," Jooli replied.
Safar's eyebrows shot up. "You mean, like pepper?" he asked.
"Exactly," Jooli said. "Pepper. The hotter the better. She doesn't even have to eat it. The mere presence of capsicum dust gives her a horrible reaction. She swells up like a balloon, her sinuses desert her and she gets a terrible rash all over body. She's a very vain woman, you know. So the rash probably angers her more than anything."
"I don't have anything with pepper in it," Safar said. He glanced around the jungle. "Maybe we can find something here…"
"It's not necessary," Jooli broke in. She grinned. "When I was a girl and made up my first witch's kit I made sure to include powdered betel pepper in it." She grinned. "It was the best way I knew to keep my grandmother at bay."
Palimak laughed. "That's a great trick," he exclaimed. "If you can't beat them, sneeze them to death!"
Jooli fished out her kit and found a packet of betel powder-it was orange with streaks of yellow. She handed it to Palimak.
"Add this to your next batch of blasting elixir and see what happens," she said.
Still laughing, Palimak did as she suggested, mixing the betel powder into the foul mixture in his portable wizard's bowl. Then he poured it into the small clay container that Safar gave him, jammed in the cork and handed it over to Jooli.
She hesitated. "It's your trick, Aunt Jooli," he said. "You deserve the honors."
Laughing with him, Jooli accepted the elixir. She cleared everyone from her path and held the jar high.
"Take this, grandmother!" she shouted.
And she hurled the jar. This time, the sheet of flame was even higher and hotter than before. A strange giddy sensation overcame Jooli. She had the sudden flash-vision of her grandmother sneezing and was struck with a fit of girlish giggles.
Laughing like a fool, but not caring, she shouted, "Let's go!"
And she charged through the wide opening created by the explosion. The others followed, dragging Felino's litter behind them and laughing with her. Only Safar and Palimak knew what was so funny, but everyone was so relieved they'd finally broken out of that dank jungle that they laughed anyway.
Wheezing and gasping as they trundled out on the beach.
But then they heard the thunder of battle and the laughter died.
And they all looked out to sea, gasping in shock at the sudden realization.
The Nepenthe was on fire. Its deck swarming with soldiers in enemy uniforms, trying to put out the flames.
Surrounding the vessel were three other ships, all engaged in battle. But it wasn't the Nepenthe they were fighting. Whatever had happened there was long over. One only had to witness the prisoners in Kyranian uniforms crowded into the bow and under enemy guard to realize that.
This battle was going on elsewhere. Huge green flaming arrows-each easily twice the size of man-were being fired into the skies. Battery, after battery of them, shooting off in steady time.
And their target was the airship, hovering over the Nepenthe and fighting a losing battle. One of the arrows had struck the bow and they could see some of Biner's crew desperately trying to put out the blaze.
King Felino finally worked his gag free. And now it was his turn to laugh.
"You've lost, Safar Timura," he gloated. "Surrender while you can!"
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
DARK VICTORY
Biner was doing his damnedest to outmaneuver the enemy fleet, and to extinguish the fire raging in the bow of the airship. If it spread to the engines the whole airship would explode.
The ringmaster called on his deepest reserves of calm. Never mind that the show was a disaster, he and his people would continue to perform until the last fat clown provoked laughter and the curtain closed.
His orders were issued in his grand ringmaster's voice. A presentation of things to come for the audience, filled with all sorts of subtext for the performers.
"Turn left," he boomed to the wheelman. Unhurried, but crackling with authority.
"Drop the port ballast," he roared to the port crew, calmly demanding their urgent but measured action so the airship could rise above the next arrow shot.
"Put some soap into that water, sir!" he bellowed to the captain of the fire-fighting team.
And the fire captain quickly, but without panic, added soap to the water barrels that fueled the hoses his men were playing over the leaping green flames. It seemed a long time, but soon thick suds shot out over the fire, quenching it.
Biner heard Khysmet trumpet from the aft section of the ship. The great stallion was housed in a temporary stable, waiting for his master's return. The excitement of the battle, plus his concern for Safar's absence, had worked the horse up into a fury and he was kicking at the wooden partition that held him.
To his relief, he saw Arlain running to the stable to calm the animal. Khysmet was much enamored of the dragon woman and would be sure to respond to her gentle ministrations.
He turned back to the task at hand. "Bombardiers, are you ready?" he shouted to his attack crew.
The signal came back that the sacks of magical explosives were set in their bays. The formula for the explosives had been worked out by Safar during their final flight from Esmir. Palimak had later added a trick or two of his own, guaranteed to devastate the most hardened enemy.
These explosives had been the key to the Kyranian occupation of their little piece of Syrapis. During Safar's long exile i
n the otherworld of Hadinland, it had been up to Palimak to lead the way against all those hostile forces.
Biner had been shocked when he'd realized that hatred seemed to be the natural state of things in Syrapis. This was an emotional environment he'd never understood. In his mind and experience, people-and even demons-were all the same. An audience was merely an audience. Most were sweet, but some were sour. And turning sour to sweet was his life's work.
He was a gentle giant in a dwarf's body. Short of stature, massive in girth and especially in heart, he believed down to his very bones there was no audience he'd ever met whose spirit couldn't be transformed-if only for two hours-into goodness.
And so the vicious, hateful attitude of the natives of Syrapis completely mystified him. Although he'd performed before thousands, possibly tens of thousands of people in his career, the Syrapians were like no others he'd ever met.
Arlain and the other circus performers felt the same and so although they were fighting for their own survival in Syrapis-as well as for that of the Kyranians-they despised this new, anti-human role they were forced to play.
Now they were being called upon to play that role once again. The Nepenthe had been overwhelmed by an enemy force. Biner had immediately recognized the uniforms of the attacking soldiers as being those of Hanadu, the kingdom ruled by Rhodes.
Biner could only guess why Rhodes had followed the Timuras to this far-off place. He supposed the king's purpose was to block Safar's mission to Hadinland. Why Rhodes should want to do this, however, was a complete puzzlement.
The only thing Biner knew for certain was that he had to stop Rhodes. At the moment the only way he could see to accomplish this was to bombard the longboats carrying the enemy troops. To bombard the Nepenthe itself would be useless, and would endanger the lives of the Kyranians still on board.
However, the huge fire arrows being launched by the three enemy ships were doing a damned good job of keeping him from that objective.
His maneuvers were designed to carry him above their reach, yet still be close enough to assume some accuracy. To maintain his calm, he imagined the action as raising a diving platform to its maximum height, while still giving the acrobat a good chance of hitting his watery target.
He was studying a group of longboats clustered near the Nepenthe as a possible target when he heard Khysmet whinny his shrill cry. A moment later Arlain came rushing up.
"Over there, Biner!" she cried, gesturing wildly toward the shore. "It'th a thignal from Thafar!"
Biner swiveled his glass in the direction she was pointing. And there, rising from the beach, he saw a green flare. Fearing some new trick to draw his attention away from the battle, he backtracked the flare's path until he came to a small group of people standing near the water's edge.
One of them was clearly Safar.
"Hard about!" he shouted to the crew. "Set a course for the beach!"
Leaving his friends to tend to the battle, Safar spent just enough time with Khysmet to let him know his master was back for good.
Then he hurried to Methydia's old stateroom, where Jooli guarded their bound captive, King Felino.
While waiting to be picked up by the airship she'd hastily briefed Safar about her magical observations in the arena.
"They seemed obsessed with the number six," she'd said.
That was good enough for Safar to make some quick deductions. Suddenly, he was quite certain of the identity of the mysterious Queen X.
In the cabin he gave Jooli a stick of magical charcoal and directed her to draw a six-pointed star on the deck, with Felino at the center. Each star point, he also told her, should bear the likeness of one of the animal warriors they'd faced. A lion to start with, followed by a jackal, an ape, and so on.
Jooli quickly caught on to what he intended and got to work.
Meanwhile, Safar flipped through the pages of the Book of Asper for clues to the proper spell.
He started with the Lady Felakia, the patron goddess of his people. In the most ancient Kyranian myths it was said that the beautiful goddess of purity and health was once wooed by the god Rybian, the maker of people and demons.
Legend had it that the Lady Felakia spurned Rybian's attentions and during the long loversa€™ siege he became bored and pinched out all the races of humankind and demonkind from the pure clay of Kyrania.
The same clay that had made the Timura potters a modern legend; their work through generations was highly valued all over Esmir.
To Safar, however, the key was Asper's claim that humans and demons were born of "a common womb." In other words, never mind the myth of what Rybian had wrought, but pay close attention to the mother.
The demon master wizard had a theory regarding the subject. It was outlined in a poem that began:
"In the days of heavenly love and lust
A wicked sister of the pure and just
Conspired to win the heart of our maker … "
In Asper's scenario, the Goddess Lottyr-who was the Hellsish shadow sister of the Lady Felakia-crept into Rybian's bed one night when he was drunk and through guile got him to impregnate her with his heavenly seed. In the morning, when he'd realized what he had done, the god ripped the seed from Lottyr's womb. Then implored the Lady Felakia to accept it into her own. Otherwise, he said, the creatures he had created would all be condemned to eternal lives of torment in the Hells.
In a night of godly passion, Asper said, Rybian wooed Felakia and she finally relented and accepted his embrace and his seed. From these two unions were born all the creatures of the world, including humans and demons.
Safar had never paid much attention to this portion of Asper's text. In both poetic form and mythical content it was quite out of character for the cynical old demon, who consistently warned that the gods were asleep and that the fate of both humans and demons was of little concern to them.
But when Jooli mentioned her own theory of numbers his mind plunged back to his student days in Walaria. He'd discovered Asper's book in the forbidden private library of the high priest, Umurhan.
There were many other volumes in that library to which his curiosity had also been drawn. One of them was a text on Hellsish magic, whose cover bore the drawing of a strange, six-headed, six-armed goddess of the dark worlds. He'd later learned it was the portrait of the evil Lady Lottyr. Shadow sister of the Goddess Felakia.
Although Safar was adamantly opposed to the practice of black magic, as a scholar he was quite familiar with all of its aspects. He was not only schooled in the spells involved in that terrible art, but was skilled in casting their counter-spells to protect himself.
This was how he had defeated Iraj Protarus and his minions when they had tried to destroy him and his people with the shapechanging Spell of Four. Safar doubted he had the power to similarly defeat the unholy deity that was the Lady Lottyr. But maybe, just maybe, he could slow her down a bit.
Finally, he found Asper's poem on the subject. It was one of his strangest verses. Written as if he, himself, had once encountered the dreaded Goddess of the Hells.
He called Jooli to show her. She smiled when she saw the poem. And with much feeling, she read Asper's words aloud:
"Deep in the Hell Fires I spied
Rybian's false-hearted bride.
Six heads and arms had she,
And beauty enough to bedazzle me.
Through the Sixth Gate I fled,
Soul quaking in fear and dread.
Up, up through the world's core,
At my heels that Hellish whore.
To the unfeeling Heavens I cried,
'Where's the lamp, where's my guide?'
Of all, only Felakia deigned to speak.
And those holy words I now repeat:
'If it's my sister, Lottyr, you wish to smite,
In the lion's eye, seek the light.a€™"
When she was done, Safar shook his head. "I never knew what Asper was getting at before," he said.
Then, grinning, h
e pointed at Felino. "But there's our lion," he continued. "And what we need to do couldn't be plainer."
The lionman roared in fury, twisting futilely at his strong bonds. "You fools!" he cried. "You poor, weak fools! You'll never defeat the goddess!"
Jooli only laughed. "I'll fetch a torch," she told Safar. "That ought to be light enough."
But as she turned, Felino suddenly howled in agony.
"What in the Hells?" Safar exclaimed.
As Jooli turned back she saw the veins in the lionman's body swelling as if they would burst. His eyes were bulging from their sockets.
Then his jaws fell open and the strange, melodious voice of a woman issued forth. Although it was strong, it had a distant, echoing quality to it-as if it were coming from the bottom of a deep cavern. Neither Safar nor Jooli had any doubt who the speaker was.
"How dare you defy me, Safar Timura?" said the voice of Lottyr. "You have bedeviled me from the start of your puny, mortal life. Asper defied me and in the end I made him suffer for it most grievously. And now you make bold to follow in his doomed footsteps? Beware what you wish for, Safar Timura. For some day I may grant it, just as I granted Asper his wishes."
The voice stopped and Felino slumped against his bonds, dead.
Safar suddenly felt exhausted-as lifeless as those lion's eyes radiating nothingness from Felino's head.
He heard Jooli wail, "What do we do now, Safar?"
But he just shook his head. He was out of answers.
At that moment, Palimak burst into the cabin. "Father!" he cried. "Come and see! It's Coralean! With the whole damned fleet!"
Renewed hope leaped into Safar's breast. He and Jooli rushed out of the cabin to see what Palimak was talking about.
And when they got to the rail overlooking the battle scene it was like a vision granted from the heavens.
Nine ships were converging on Rhodesa€™ little fleet of three. Safar immediately recognized the center ship, the Tegula, which flew Coralean's coat of arms.
Safar didn't know where his old friend had come from, or how he'd guessed Safar was in trouble. All he cared about was that the tide of battle had been transformed. Rhodesa€™ longboats full of soldiers were rowing as fast as they could back to their mother ships.