My Son, the Wizard

Chapter Twenty-One

Matt turned around, holding out a hand. “Well, Callio, it’s been nice meeting you. Have a nice trip.”

“Why, thank you, Lord Wizard!” Callio seized his hand and began pumping. “It’s so good of you to invite me!”

“Sarcasm is sometimes ill placed, Matthew,” Papa muttered in an undertone.

Even more silently, Matt cursed his own stupidity. In desperation, he said, “Oh, how silly of me! I can’t invite you… I’m not the one who’d be carrying you!” He looked up at the dragon and shook his head as he said, “Stegoman, you don’t really want to carry one more, do you?”

His heart sank when the dragon didn’t answer, but studied Callio long and hard.

Callio, no doubt wondering whether he’d been added to the menu, began to back away.

“There is a need to bring him,” the dragon rumbled. “I sense a Rightness in his joining us.”

Callio looked relieved, then realized that he might have been dropped from the menu only to be put in the larder.

“Are you sure?” Matt wasn’t used to Stegoman having hunches.

“I know not how or why, only that he must come with us,” Stegoman said slowly. “But know, slight man, that your cart must stay here.”

Callio’s face twisted in agony.

“Yeah, can’t be without that,” Matt said quickly. “How would you carry your loot? But you can’t pack a cart on top of a dragon, not with three men along. Too bad, Callio. Guess you’ll have to stay here. Good meeting you, though.” He turned away to Stegoman… fast.

“If I must do without it, I must,” Callio cried. “I shall come, Lord Wizard!”

Matt slowed and muttered something under his breath.

“No, no, Matthew, he is only a thief,” Papa said, grinning. “I am sure he will prove invaluable in helping us find dinner. Let us accept your scaly friend’s invitation, and fly.”

Apparently Callio hadn’t really thought out the flying part. He clung to a back-plate, staring down in terror, rigid as a board the whole way. Matt’s reassurance that he wouldn’t let the thief fall didn’t seem to console him much.

“It is better if you don’t look down,” Papa said helpfully.

Callio tore his eyes away from the ground and stared ahead. “I would never have dreamed that I would ride a dragon!”

“Takes a little getting used to,” Matt called over the roar of the wind. “Just be glad he’s flying low.”

To be on the safe side, he touched his purse. Yes, it was still there. He tucked it down inside his hose and called, “Papa, how many fingers do you have?”

Saul and Mama patrolled the battlements, fidgeting. “Anyway, it’s quiet, Lady Mantrell.”

“Yes. That worries me.” Mama frowned. “I would expect them to attack now and then from sheer boredom, if nothing else.”

“Well, they’ve tried all the basic assaults and found that they don’t work. Sooner or later, every siege boils down to sitting still and trying to wait out the defenders.”

“But not so soon,” Mama said. “It has scarcely been a fortnight. Perhaps we should have men stab the earth with rods, all around the inside of the wall.”

“Checking for miners, you mean? Good thought.” Saul frowned. “Seems as though we ought to be able to do better than that, though. Maybe a magical equivalent of sonar… “

“Yes, and a warding spell! You can make a magical fence, no?”

“Yes. I mean, it’s fairly easy… but it’s also easy to bypass, since every magician knows about it.”

“But if they are stopped by a warding spell underground, they will not be looking for your alarm system! They will bypass the wards, but we will still know they are coming!”

“Great idea.” But Saul eyed Mama warily “You have problems with home security?”

“No, I have Ramon,” Mama said absently. Her brows were knit, she was still worrying over some problem. “What’s bothering you?”

“The commander of this assault,” Mama said. “You mean the guy with the big gaudy turban and the huge gaudy pavilion? What about him?”

“He is too obvious,” Mama said, “and he is a general. Sorcerers began this war… does it not make sense that sorcerers would still command it?”

And Saul had thought he was paranoid! On second thought, maybe he was… Mama was just being rational, given the circumstances. “Why do you think there has to be a ruler behind the ruler, milady?

Why won’t the obvious do?”

“Because we deal with a wily enemy, one who specializes in feints and diversions,” Mama said. “His drawing Alisande away from the city before the attack shows that… and his soldiers descending in force the day after she was gone. Additionally, he must know we have sent couriers after her and, even if his minions stop the riders, that we have magical means of sending. Would he not fear that she would turn back and attack him from the rear?”

“It makes sense, now that you mention it,” Saul said slowly, “but I would keep on going, trusting my castellans to hold the city for me.”

“You are not a general, though. We must ask Sir Guy. Before that, however, humor me, Saul… make your gazing bowl again and tell it to show us who truly commands this army.”

Saul looked down at her a moment, considering. She hadn’t been wrong yet, and she was a scholar who had read virtually all the medieval literature there was, with its descriptions of treacheries and double-dealing. Somehow, he didn’t doubt her hunches. “Right away, Lady Mantrell.”

So he filled the bowl, made the passes, and chanted the spell, then told the water,

The pool clouded, then cleared, and they found themselves staring at the gorgeous pavilion, all right… but it was to the side of the bowl. In its center stood a small, unassuming tent, bigger than most, but nowhere near as big as many. An ordinary soldier sat at its door, dressed in a camel rider’s robe and head cloth held by a braided camel-hair rope… but he was studying a huge old book in his lap.

“Now may my spells his book engage” Saul improvised

“Let us see and read his page.”

The picture swelled until one leaf filled the bowl, but they still couldn’t read it… it was in Arabic. But they could understand the geometric symbols they saw, at least the pentagram and the elaborate, curlicued decahedron. “He’s thinking about warding spells, all right!” Saul said. The book slammed shut.

Mama cried,

“Hey, that’s my spell,” Saul objected. The bowl didn’t seem to mind, it blurred as the view tilted up, then steadied on a face that was frowning upward, searching the sky, a very ordinary Berber face, mostly African but partly Arabic, though not as dark a brown as some, with wide brown eyes and a small, neatly trimmed mustache and beard. “I shall remember you,” Mama promised the image. The sorcerer’s frown didn’t change, but he waved a hand across his face, and the bowl went cloudy. When it cleared, it was only water again. Saul sat back with a sigh. “You were right. The real commander is a sorcerer disguised as a minor officer. He knows we’re on to him now.”

“Much good may that do him.” Mama smiled. “But it will do far more good for us.”

“Just what are you planning?” Saul asked warily.

“Female magic,” Mama answered “Good day, Saul.”

Saul watched with trepidation as she went back into the castle. He watched with even more trepidation an hour later, when she came out wearing a gown that was officially demure and modest, with a high neckline, long loose sleeves, and a hem that brushed the toes of small cordovan slippers… officially demure, but clinging to her figure in ways that should have classified it as a lethal weapon. “Lady Mantrell!” Saul exclaimed, shocked. “What are you doing?” After all, everyone knew that mothers weren’t supposed to be sexually attractive, especially mothers of grown sons. “Only what I have done every day since this siege began, Saul,” she told him, “patrolling the battlements and encouraging our soldiers.”

Well, she certainly raised the morale of the soldiers, even though her manner was far from alluring… but between sentry posts, she moved with a languid grace that would have made Saul feel like baying at the moon, if he hadn’t had a wife of his own. In a panic, he wondered what duty he owed to Matt. Sure, he was supposed to protect Mama from the Moors… but was he really supposed to protect the Moors from Mama?

Stegoman dropped them at sunset and went off to hunt. Matt stretched. “At this rate, I’m going to have saddle sores.”

“Yes, and you don’t even have a saddle.” Papa smiled “Was it not pleasant to have so uneventful a flight?”

“Seems that’s what I always said whenever I reached O’Hare Airport. But it was kinda nice not to see any genies trying to swat us out of the air.”

Callio looked up from his own stretching, alarmed. “Yes, I had expected at least one such run-in,’ Papa admitted. “Do you suppose Lakshmi and her associates have spread the word to leave us alone?”

“That wouldn’t matter to lamp slaves and ring slaves. They have to do as they’re told, no matter what.”

“True,” Papa said thoughtfully. “Perhaps the word has also run to the sorcerers who hold the lamps and the rings, and they are holding back for fear of having the genies freed.”

“That could be a really well-earned fear, for some of them,” Matt agreed. “There might be a genie or two wanting revenge.” He shuddered at the thought of a maimed and dying sorcerer, then reminded himself sternly that one less enemy shouldn’t bother him… should it?

“Are we truly apt to be attacked by a genie?” Callio quavered.

“It happened yesterday,” Matt told him “and another time before that, too. Look, you don’t have to come along, you know.”

“Oh, but I wish to!” Callio developed a faraway gaze. “Perhaps I am fortunate in not having met you sooner.’

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Matt sighed. “Well, down to practicalities How are you at lighting a campfire?”

The thief answered with a mirthless smile. “I have done it more nights than not, Lord Wizard.”

“I knew there was a reason we brought you along. How about lighting up for us, okay?”

“My delight!”

“Always like to see a man doing something he enjoys.” Matt turned to Papa. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in hunting?”

Papa shrugged “There is always the… “

Puffs of dust shot up from the ground in a semicircle around their feet Matt stared at them “Now, what do you suppose that could be?”

The wind brought them a sound like a string of firecrackers blowing. “Enemy fire!” snapped Papa. “Get down!” To emphasize the point, he swung a leg, knocking Matt’s feet out from under him, then fell beside him… just in time, for bullets kicked up dust behind them.

“What evil magic is that?” Callio asked, facedown in the dirt.

“A rapid fire spell!” Matt shouted.

“Roll into the streambed, quickly!” Papa cried. They did, with bullets kicking dust about them, following them, reaching them only as they fell into the little trench. Callio cried out in pain and fear.

“Let me see it.” Matt crawled over to him and took his arm. The blood oozed out over Callio’s homespun sleeve. “Only a flesh wound. Here.” Matt tore off the bottom of the man’s tunic and wrapped it around the arm. “We’ll fix it when we’ve chased away the, ah, enemy sorcerer. How’s the pain?”

“I can bear it,” Callio whimpered, “but how shall I steal with only one hand?”

“Very carefully,” Matt told him, and slapped him on the other shoulder. “Buck up… we all have setbacks.” He squirmed over to Papa, reflecting that maybe he wouldn’t have to check his wallet every fifteen minutes from now on. He came up beside his father, who had found a stick and wadded bulrushes about it. “What kind of gun is it?” Matt asked.

“An automatic weapon of some sort,” Papa answered. The wad of bulrushes was about as big as his head now; he stuck it up above the bank. Puffs of dirt exploded all along the bank. Finally the wad blew apart.

A few seconds later, they heard the chatter of the shots. “An assault rifle, from the sound of it,” Papa said, “and although he’s not the greatest marksman in the world, he is good enough.”

“How do you define ‘good enough’?”

“By whether or not I stay alive,” Papa said grimly. “I did not know that gunpowder could work here.”

“It can’t,” Matt said, then frowned. “No, come to think of it, I’ve never tried gunpowder itself, without a spell to help.”

“But it will work with a spell?”

“Empty cartridges will work, with a spell.” Matt’s eyes lost focus. “Come to think of it, maybe even without cartridges…”

“Catch up on your research and development later,” Papa told him. “For now, let’s see if we can’t find a way to stop the dunderhead.” He started to crawl along the streambed.

“Wait.” Matt reached out and touched his shoulder. “Let’s figure out what we’re up against first. If it’s an assault rifle, how did it get here?”

“Yes, the weaponry is a little advanced for this universe,” Papa said, frowning, “though as you’ve just pointed out, it may not be a real assault rifle… only a local imitation.”

“It still means that whoever made it copied the design from our universe,” Matt said. “That kind of limits the possibilities.”

“Why? We know this Nirobus of yours doesn’t do the actual dirty work himself… he sends others to do it for him. Why couldn’t he teach some local peasant how to handle the weapon?”

“That would account for the marksmanship,” Matt agreed. “Even if Nirobus imported the sniper from New Jersey, though, he’d be unfamiliar enough with the territory so that he wouldn’t be sure what to shoot at.”

“And would therefore shoot at anything that moved,” Papa said grimly. “I shall have to go very carefully.” He turned away.

Matt caught his arm. “Hold on. My universe, my risk.”

“You have more of your life left to live,” Papa objected.

“You have plenty, too, though, and some unborn grandchildren left to see. I’m pulling rank, Papa… youth before beauty.”

Papa frowned. “I don’t think you have the quotation quite right.”

“Good enough to get by you, though.” Matt squirmed past him, then turned back to cut off his protest.

“Besides, you can do a better job keeping his attention.”

“I can?” Papa asked, wide-eyed. “How?”

“However you did in the Marines! Just keep him shooting, if you can do it safely… the less ammunition he has, the better.”

Matt left him thinking and crawled on down the streambed. He didn’t know what Papa was planning, only knew that every now and then, he heard a burst of firing behind him. He hoped Papa wasn’t getting reckless, and began to be afraid… the veteran seemed to be determined to take a risk. He reminded himself that his father had always been the cautious sort and crawled on.

The streambed widened out where it joined a drainage ditch coming from another field. Matt sat up on his heels, considering. He could crawl up the ditch to the hills, but that would take so long a time that the enemy might have fled, and Matt had no great desire to have a sniper following them. On the other hand, what kind of magic could bring him in behind the other man unnoticed?

A dust devil suddenly boiled up from the streambed. Matt shrank back, hissing, “Keep down!”

The tiny whirlwind fell in on itself into voluptuous, if diminutive, contours, and Lakshmi stood before him in miniature. “I thank you for your kind thoughts, wizard, but I had already realized the need for discretion.”

Coming from her, that wasn’t entirely reassuring. “Uh… good to see you again,” Matt said lamely. “Sorry I can’t talk just now, but I have to go kill off somebody before he kills me.”

“So I see,” Lakshmi told him. “I shall be glad to take you to him… for a price.”

Somehow, Matt had a notion what the price would be. “Thanks, but my mommy told me not to talk to strange women.”

“Ah, but you know me well by now.”

“Yeah, but you’re one of the strangest women I’ve ever met.” Matt held up a palm. “Sorry, no offense… but you are the first female genie I’ve seen, if you don’t count the one on television, and she was just an actress.”

“Actress?” Lakshmi frowned. “A player, you mean?”

“Not in any game I’ve ever heard of, no. Sorry, but I can’t afford to take on any more debts right now, I’m in up to my neck as it is.”

“Perhaps I should slay this cowardly assassin for you, then.”

“Nice thought,” Matt said, with what he hoped was a grateful grin, “but I need him alive, at least temporarily. I have to ask him a few questions.”

“He will be in more of a mood to answer them when I have done with him,” Lakshmi said ominously, and turned into a whirlwind again… a small one, that died down as quickly as it had come.

Matt stared at the pattern it had left with a sinking heart. He turned and started crawling back to Papa. A flock of crows flew overhead, toward the sniper. He wondered who had sent them.

Then suddenly, there was a wild burst of machine-gun fire. The crows came shooting back, cawing frantically. Then the machine gun went silent, and Matt pushed himself to his feet and sprinted, doubled over. Somehow he suspected what had happened and wanted to be there before Lakshmi.

“Matthew! Get down!” Papa called as he came into sight. Matt shook his head, though, and came panting up just as the whirlwind careered down from the sky and dumped a black-clad bundle into the ditch before it turned into Lakshmi, ten feet tall and glowing with anger. “The fool had the audacity to strike at me!”

“They went through her!” the black-clad bundle howled, still curled in a ball. “They went right through her, and she didn’t even notice!”

“Oh, I noticed, well enough!” Lakshmi snapped. “They were quite painful, I assure you!” She turned to Matt. “You will understand, therefore, if he is not completely unharmed.”

Matt frowned. “I don’t see any blood.”

“It is not a cut or a wound, but knots tied in certain muscles,” Lakshmi said evenly. “It is well I went in your place, mortal man, for this is truly one of the hashishim.”

“The original assassins?” Matt stared.

“The same. He is dazed with hashish, or something much like it, and sent to slay you so that he can obtain more from his master.”

“Thank you,” Matt said, feeling totally inadequate. “Thank you very much. I… I’m sorry I can’t show my gratitude in any more tangible way.”

“I am scarcely in the mood for it now! See if you cannot find better company to keep!” Then the whirlwind kicked up about her, absorbing her, and disappeared.

Matt nudged the black bundle with his toe. “She’s gone. You can come out now.”

“For real?” The assassin unwound enough to risk a peek. “Really gone?”

Papa stared. “Luco?!??!?”

Mama sat in her chamber, brushing her hair with long, languid strokes, singing a pensive melody, ostensibly alone.

The air shimmered, a heat-haze that slowly thickened until it disappeared with a soft explosion. Mama turned, wide-eyed, heart racing.