My Son, the Wizard

Chapter Twelve

“He is so ruthless now, Ramon!” Mama huddled within the circle of her husband’s arms, head against his chest, both taking and giving comfort. “When he tortured that Moor, I scarcely knew him for my own gentle son!”

“I know, I know, mi corazon,” Papa soothed. “But remember that he did not actually torture the man, only subjected him to the pain of temptation, which relied on the man’s having pleasure.”

“I know, I know, but he was straining the man’s soul! Could my little boy have been so careless of another man’s beliefs?”

They sat on the bed in their suite, it being the only piece of furniture wide enough for two people side by side. The sunshine of late afternoon turned the paneling and the tapestries to gold.

“He honored the Muslim’s faith, in his way,” Papa said. “He did not force a morsel of pork between Achmed’s teeth, after all, nor even sustain the temptation to the man’s breaking… only used it to upset Achmed to the point at which his anger and pride impelled him to speak.”

Mama’s shivering stilled.

Papa took note, and pressed his consolation. “He has remembered our teachings, Jimena, and is slow to give hurt and quick to give help.”

“Yes, but, Ramon!” Mama looked up into his eyes. “He would have hurt that man if he had to, I know.”

“Certainly he would have, if the man had struck at him.” Papa smiled sadly down at her. “He would have struck faster and harder, if the sorcerer had offered harm to his Alisande.”

“Well… I can understand that, certainly… ” Mama lowered her gaze.

Papa felt a knot of concern loosen in his breast. He rested his cheek against her hair and mourned, “He has become a man, mi coition.” But fierce pride glowed in him, too, pride in this man who had been his boy.

In the queen’s solar, Matt sat at the table with Alisande, his hand covering hers. “Achmed didn’t tell us all of it, dear… and oh, was he furious when he realized how much he had said!”

“He let slip one or two more bits of knowledge, then, when you led him to his, ah, chamber?”

“Your most comfortable dungeon,” Matt assured her, “the one you put me in when I tried to leave for Allustria by myself. It even has a writing desk and a real bed.”

Alisande shuddered at the memory of the event, if not the space. “What more did he say?”

“Only that this ‘Mahdi’s’ name is Tafas bin Daoud, and that he knows about the sorcerers but ignores them. Apparently he’s convinced that his victories are a matter of destiny and the will of Allah, so whatever the sorcerers are doing doesn’t matter to him.”

“But that leaves the sorcerers free to use him by talking people into fighting for him, then making sure of victory with their magic!”

“Which is fueled by the new magical power that Nirobus is channeling in. Yes.” Matt nodded.

“Did you truly speak with this man Nirobus?” Alisande asked. “Yes… and in my home universe, too!”

The words tasted badly on Matt’s tongue. “He’s a smooth operator, no question. He pretended sympathy, pretended to want to help me out, even coaxed me into telling him who I was and how I was trying to get home. Then he blocked my transportation spell.” He simmered in embarrassment.

“You could not have known.” Alisande caressed his hand with hers now. “Did he not resemble a man of your world completely?”

“Down to the last detail,” Matt assured her. “He’s been there awhile, that’s for sure. So he’s managed to convince the sorcerers that they’re using the power he gives them without having to do anything they didn’t want to do anyway.”

“And they, in their turn, are certain they can use this Mahdi as their figurehead to conquer Europe for them, while they use their magics to gain the true victories.”

“Yes, and that’s what Achmed didn’t say,” Matt said grimly. “They may be real genuine religious fanatics, or they may be a bunch of greedy, self serving powermongers but whatever they are, they’re sure they can manipulate their Mahdi when he’s won Europe for them.”

“And believe they can thus carve up Europe between them, becoming the Mahdi’s governors and ruling as they will. Yes.” Alisande glowed with anger “Do they not see that this Nirobus intends to serve them as they would serve the Mahdi?”

“Oh, once he proves he can kill them in agony, I think they’ll be quick enough to accept whatever administrative posts he gives them,” Matt said “After all, Governor of Ibile wouldn’t be a bad settlement

“No, it would not,” Alisande said grimly, “nor would Governor of Merovence. Husband, I think we must settle their ambitions before they seek to settle us.”

“They’re already seeking,” Matt said dryly “Achmed didn’t deny that their genie attack was intended to soften us up for the Mahdi’s conquest. What he didn’t say was that it’s also supposed to keep us from going to help King Armando.”

“Let us disappoint him, then,” Alisande said. “How shall we begin our campaign?”

“That’s for you to say… you’re the military genius. But for the larger picture, I think it might be a good idea if I had a little talk with this Mahdi… show him how he’s being used, maybe even persuade him that

Allah doesn’t want his servants fighting, and definitely doesn’t want us trying to convert each other by the sword. Not easy, considering that’s what Emperor Hardishane did, but that was five hundred years ago.”

“To do that, though, you would have to go to this young Mahdi yourself.”

“Yes.” Matt nodded grimly “I would. We know where he is, though… Achmed said he’s in the southern capital, Avordoca, consolidating his forces and training them for the big offensive to push Armando and his army into the sea.”

“But Avordoca is a hundred miles and more past the mountains! To speak with Tafas bin Daoud, you would have to travel through all that distance of hostile countryside!”

“Sure.” Matt gave her a sardonic smile “I’ve done it before, haven’t I?”

“Not when a whole countryside was up in arms against you! I cannot hear of it!” Alisande cried.

“Oh, they were all against me then, too, everyone who was loyal to King Gordogrosso or feared him.

They just didn’t know I was coming.”

“But they will know now! You must not go this time! Think, husband… someone else can travel in your place!”

Something hardened inside Matt. “You know I can’t think like that… that I’ll never send someone to face dangers that should be mine.”

“They need not be yours! You rob other men of their chance for glory!”

“Who else is qualified?” Matt asked “I’m the only knight who also happens to be a wizard. No one else stands as good a chance of coming back alive.”

“Then I shall send two men, a wizard and a knight to guard him! Oh, husband!” She clasped his hand with both of hers, eyes suddenly brimming with tears. “Do not leave me again!”

Shaken, Matt returned the clasp and gazed into her eyes. “You know I can’t bear the thought of an enemy king throwing you into his dungeon.”

“Then stay and guard me! But if you will not stay for me, then stay for our son!”

Her words conjured a vision of enemy soldiers beating down the nursery door and slashing at the baby with scimitars. Matt shuddered and said, “No! I can’t let them get that close to you! I’ll leave Saul and my parents and Ortho! Between them all, you’ll be at least as safe as though I were with you… and I actually might be able to keep the enemy from invading!”

“Your parents are no substitute for… “

The knock at the door was very heavy, emphatic “We must have been louder than we thought… they’re trying to stop us.” Matt kept hold of Alisande’s hand, but stood up to face the door. Alisande dashed the tears from her eyes, squeezed his hand, then let it go as she sat up straight, leaning a little against the back of her chair, the invisible mantle of authority settling over her once again. “Enter!”

The door opened and a guard stepped in to bow “Majesty, there is a courier come hot from King Armando.”

“From the king!” Alisande was on her feet “Show him in on the instant!”

The guard stepped aside and a small man stepped into the room, dressed like a caravan guard, still covered with the dust of the road. His whole body seemed to droop with fatigue, his face was gray with weariness, but he fought to hold himself erect. He pulled a scroll from a pouch at his side and presented it to Her Majesty with a bow… and almost fell over. Matt stepped forward, straightening him with a clap on the shoulder. “You’re a brave man, to bring word through, against such odds.”

Alisande looked up from the scroll. “There is nothing here but what I already knew… that the Moors have broken out from their enclave in the south and marched against the king and his armies.”

“Yes, Majesty,” the courier said, every word weighted by weariness. His accent was thick enough to make him hard to understand. “The scroll was only for men to read, if I was captured. The true message is on my tongue.”

“Speak, then!” the queen ordered.

“Tafas bin Daoud has launched a lightning attack on the North,” the courier said. “His men charged out from every direction, numberless as the blades of grass on the plain. He has conquered half the province of Vellese in one day, with five battles twenty leagues apart. His horsemen are lightly armored, but they came against the king’s knights five to one and worried at them like hounds at a bear until they brought the knight down.” His voice broke; he dropped to one knee. “Oh, Majesty, ride quickly! For if you do not come straight to the king’s aid, all of Ibile will be lost!” He tottered and nearly fell, but Matt reached out and caught him in time. One of the guards stepped forward and pulled the man to his feet.

Alisande turned to Matt with the determined, absolute certainty of the monarch. “There is no longer room to talk of a personal mission, Lord Wizard. The war has come to Merovence. We must march.”

Mama was incensed. “Why must I stay to guard the castle, Ramon?” Fear shadowed her eyes. “O my beloved, what shall I do if you never return to me?”

Papa took her into his arms, murmuring, “Be sure I shall come back, beloved. With so fair a lady waiting for me, how could I let armies stand in my way?”

“Then why should I not go, and you stay!”

“Because in the Middle Ages, the office of women was to stay and hold the castle… and that because their men cannot bear to risk them in battle.”

“But we are expected to risk our men, whom we love as our lives? Why does not Mateo’s wife have to stay, then?” But Mama knew the reason very well.

So did Papa. “Because she is the queen, and by the magic of this universe, only the sovereign can know with certainty which terrain to choose and how to manage the battle. From what they say, I believe she will do as a modern commander should, watching the battle from high ground and directing the movements of the troops in relative safety.”

“Why must she wear armor, then?”

“Because none can be sure she will not have to fight, herself… on a hilltop or not, she may be attacked, or ambushed as her army travels. You must stay here with Saul, my love, to be sure there is a castle to which our daughter-in-law may return when her war is won.”

“It is still most unfair,” Mama grumbled, but she let Papa’s caresses soothe her anyway.

The soldiers milled about in the courtyard, knights and courtiers riding through them, bawling orders.

Against the range of kitchens, provision wagons were loading their last stocks of food and ale. Another set of wagons loaded extra weapons from the smithies. There were no camp followers, especially no prostitutes… yet. Alisande would not have them, maintaining that her soldiers would not exploit women.

It galled her to know that the prostitutes would materialize every night they marched, as if from thin air.

She sat astride her mount by the gatehouse with her dukes, gazing out over the courtyard, impassive face hiding the warring of emotions within her… sadness at leaving her home, eagerness for the journey and for action. Matt stood nearby, arguing with Saul.

“Look,” the Witch Doctor said, “how about we make a deal? You stay home, and I’ll go with the army.”

Matt shook his head. “Your wife doesn’t have to march with the soldiers. Mine does.”

“Yeah, but it’s not fair to leave you to take on all the danger by yourself! At least you could let your dad stay home as resident magician, and let me go!”

“Angelique would never forgive me.” Saul’s wife was Matt’s trump card, and he played her unmercifully.

“How about your mother? Why should she have to risk her husband when Angelique doesn’t?”

“Because she’s related to the queen, and Angelique isn’t… and because her baby is grown up now.”

Saul took a deep breath, striving for composure. “Look, let’s try to be reasonable about this. If your parents hadn’t dropped by, who would have had to stay to defend the castle?”

Matt started to answer, but Saul said quickly, “Never mind. Don’t answer. Dumb question.”

Matt relaxed with a smile of amusement. Saul growled a good-bye and turned away. He knew very well that if Mama and Papa Mantrell hadn’t appeared on the scene, he would have been stuck with being castellan without any hope of debate.

Then he turned back, holding out a small gray sphere pierced with holes. “At least take one of my communicators! That way, if you get into too much trouble, you can call for help and I can at least send a spell!”

“Thanks, but I’m supposed to be incognito.” Matt smiled even as he held up a palm to ward off the talisman. “If I’m wearing a bauble that suddenly starts talking, it might make peasants and soldiers a little wary of me.”

Saul didn’t say anything, just glowered. He hated having to admit the other guy was right.

“As long as I don’t look like a wizard,” Matt explained, “people may trust me. If I look magical, nobody will tell me anything.”

“Okay, okay! At least take a good long look every time you pass a puddle, though, will you? I can send a message that way if all else fails.”

“Deal.” Matt held out a hand. “I always did like to take a little time for reflection.”

Saul winced, but shook his hand anyway.

So the army rode out across the drawbridge with the queen at their head and her Lord Wizard right behind her with his father beside him, and with Saul, Angelique, and Mama waving from the battlements atop the gatehouse.

The army’s campfires made a very orderly galaxy, a spiral that lapped into five separate circles with the queen’s pavilion at its center. Inside that tent, she forced herself to submit to her own intuition born of the magical link between monarch and people, queen and country.

“I hate the thought of it,” she told Matt, “but the certainty grows within me that I must needs have a vanguard, a small party going before the army to prepare the way… and that it must be you, that none other stands even a chance of success.”

Matt held himself very still, though his eyes widened. He wasn’t used to Alisande saying someone else was right when she was in monarch mode. Of course, she hadn’t said she was wrong, and hadn’t quite said that he was right… but it was enough. “I’ll sneak out while nobody notices,” he promised.

“I would go myself, but… “

“I know,” Matt assured her. “You’re the monarch, and the army probably wouldn’t follow anyone else.

Certainly they wouldn’t be as strong without you.”

“I have sent word to Allustria and Latruria to help. Surely Frisson will send troops, and even King Boncorro may, though I cannot be sure.” Then the queen weakened, and the woman shone through, tears glinting from her eyes. “But O my love, take care! If I should lose you, I do not know what I would do!”

She lifted her arms, and he came around the table to lift her into his.

It was several hours later that he slipped out of her pavilion. The sentries spun, halberds raised, but Matt raised a palm in greeting, and they relaxed. As he stepped away into the night, he hoped they would be as alert to people trying to get into the tent as they were to people trying to get out.

The moon rode high, its dim light most of what there was; the campfires had burned to embers and been banked, the ground was clear, the soldiers asleep in their tents. Matt stopped by a provisions wagon to take a pack and fill it… but a hand came out of the darkness holding one already stuffed.

Matt froze, every nerve on edge, hand on his sword. Then he saw the grin beneath the mustache, and relaxed. “Papa! You nearly scared five years off me!”

“I could wish you no greater delight than eternal youth,” Papa returned. “Did you think you could creep from this camp without me?”

“So how did you know?” Matt said, chagrined.

“Because you did the same thing when you were fifteen… sneaked out of the house when you should have been doing your homework.”

Matt remembered. “Yeah. I forced myself to go to the carnival when nobody else would be there, because I was afraid of riding the Round-Up and determined to prove I wasn’t a total coward.”

“So you told me, afterward.” Papa nodded. “Besides, I have seen some tension between your sweet wife and yourself, and knew you would do what you thought you must to defend her.”

“Well, as it turns out, she put on her crown instead of her wife-hat, and ordered me to go.” Matt decided he had to set the record straight. “But I don’t doubt my courage anymore, Papa. I’ve been knighted, and the ceremony’s magical.”

“Literally, I am sure… though even in our world, ceremonies have metaphorical magic, and that is what they are for. I lived through three months of torture at Parris Island and wondered why, but it ended with the Trooping of the Colors, and I knew I was a Marine. Even more, I knew I was a man.” Papa clapped him on the shoulder, then held up the pack for him to slip into. “Just as you know you are a man, for you have been knighted. Come, let us be off.”

“We always have been,” Matt muttered, but he slipped his arms through the straps, then followed his father through the tents, sneaked past the pickets, and went off into the night.

They had gone about five hundred yards down what passed for a road when a huge dark shape rose up before them to block the way. Red jewels glowed for eyes, and the top of the shape was serrated.

“Beware!” Papa fell into a crouch, a spear appearing in his hand.

“Who is this uncouth fellow, Lord Matthew?” a deep voice rumbled. “Why does he seek to prick me with that pin?”

“He’s just trying to protect his hatchling… me,” Matt said quickly.

The glowing eyes stared. “Him? Yes, now I see some resemblance. Your paternal progenitor, truly?”

“Very truly. Stegoman, meet my father, Ramon Mantrell. Papa, my friend Stegoman. He’s a dragon.”

“I never would have guessed.” Papa bowed to Stegoman. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“And I am pleased to meet you,” the dragon replied. “Your son does you credit, Master Mantrell. He is a true nobleman. You have reared him well.”

“Why, thank you,” Papa said, pleased, “though the credit is at least as much his mother’s as mine. You have known my son long, then?”

“Some years… since his first day in Merovence, in fact. He has mended my wings, and I have carried him on my shoulders.” The dragon swiveled his head toward Matt. “As I mean to do again. How discourteous of you, Matthew, to go adventuring without informing me!”

“Thought I could sneak off without you,” Matt said, smiling. “How’d you know?”

“The Witch Doctor called to me by magic, of course, as soon as you had left the castle! Surely you will not insist on walking when you have such a distance to traverse, and so much of it through hostile territory!”

“Of course I’d rather ride,” Matt said, amused. “Are you offering?”

“Certainly… at the price of being included in your exploits.”

“Just remember, you might be the one who does the paying. Not much chance of keeping you out, if we’re riding on you.” Matt turned to his father. “What do you say, Papa? You always did like flying.”

Matt glanced back to see his father hanging on to the huge dorsal plates, thin-lipped and pale-faced. Matt smiled. “I know it’s a bit more scary than being inside a jet, Papa, but you get used to it.”

“I’m sure that I shall.” Papa’s voice sounded only a little strained. “I do wish we had seat belts, though.”

“I know the feeling,” Matt agreed, “but even if we did fall, Stegoman would loop back and catch us.

Besides, with these plates to hang on to and break the wind, there isn’t much that could knock us off.”

A huge impact jolted Stegoman, and a voice thundered around them as they all plummeted toward the ground.