The Accidental sorcerer

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Sultan of Kallarap s palace was a modest, single-level, twenty-room affair built of mysteriously acquired blue and grey marble slabs. Located in the middle of a small but fertile oasis, it basked in shade provided by groves of date palms. The desert's dry air tinkled with the music of fountains and songbirds, thrummed with the rushing eagerness of cunningly designed miniature waterfalls. Gentle breezes stirred perfume from lovingly tended flowerbeds. Peace; tranquility; reverent calm: all surrounded the sultan's home, drowsy in the sunshine.

Mid-morning's hush roused briefly as a camel barked from the comfort of its bed in the stable yard beyond the gardens, where the sultan's peerless racing team lived in luxury.

Moments later all the camels were barking as a train of their brethren returned from a long hot journey beneath the burning sun, across daunting miles of sparkling sand and treacherous, shifting dunes.

As camel boys tipped out of their hammocks and raced to succour their weary charges, Shugat slid creakily from his saddle and blessed his beast, for it had carried him well and the gods liked their children to be appreciated. Then he turned to the sultan's regrettable brother and said curtly, 'You will wait in the gods' room while I seek their guidance. Once the will of the Three is revealed we will report to the sultan, may he live forever, the outcome of our mission.'

Nerim slid off his camel in such a rush that he nearly sprawled on the mud brick ground. 'But Shugat, the gods have already spoken! Zazoor must — '

He stepped close to the prince and glared. 'Be silent!' he hissed, with a quick glance to make sure the camel boys weren't listening, it is not for you to say what was seen and heard in the court of New Ottosland's oath-breaker king. Remain silent or I shall petition the gods to shrivel your tongue and your manhood both! Now do as I bid you, Blood of the Sultan, may he live forever. I will join you presently'

Chastened, with the whites of his eyes showing his proper fear, Nerim clasped his dirty hands palm to palm before his chest and bowed. 'I hear and obey, Holy One.'

Shaking his head, Shugat glared after Zazoor's foolish brother as he hobbled away, then collected his staff from his camel's saddle, silenced the protests from his aged muscles and turned his back on the chattering camel boys to seek the solitude and wisdom of his gods.

Surely they would speak to him here in holy Kallarap.

He lived in a dwelling apart from the palace, but still within its grounds. No elegant marble edifice, his, but a squat and simple mud brick box, its roof a thatching of dried palm fronds plastered against the infrequent rain with cured camel dung. It was part of the arrangement the most senior holy men of Kallarap had made with the Three from the dawn of time: an austere life without adornment, accolades or the trappings of position, with simple clothes of undyed linen, plain meals of dates, camel milk and goat flesh, and every day of their allotted span spent in selfless service; in return they were gifted the glory of the gods' words and power enough to pluck a star from the sky should a single candle fail in the dark of night.

At the first touch of his gods' vast and fiery minds, all those years ago, he knew he had by far the better part of the bargain.

He knelt before their shrine now, still stinking and smudged with the grime and sweat of his long ride home. Devoutly carved into the precious wood, rare mahogany from a distant unknown land, inlaid with crafted and polished andaleya, the Tears of the Gods, they bent their ruby eyes upon him, the Dragon, the Lion and the Bird, waiting with their infinite patience for him to open his heart to their desires.

So he did. And after the long silence that had frightened him as he had never felt fear in his life… the Three heard his prayers and spoke to him. He wept.

When at last they had imparted their desires, he levered himself to his feet with his staff and went frowningly about the business of preparing for an audience with the sultan, who had no chance at all of living forever and moreover, unlike some of his forbears, knew so full well and was at peace with the knowledge.

Which was but one among many reasons why he liked Zazoor and had vowed to protect him and his honour to the last drop of blood and breath in his aged and wasting body.

Most especially he intended to protect him, and all of Kallarap, from the soulless predator known as His Sovereign Majesty King Lional, Forty-third ruler of New Ottosland.

The palace's gods' room was a high-ceilinged, incense-scented place of worship and contemplation. Hand-woven carpets of rich blues and greens covered the marble floor so that the sultan and his dependents might properly prostrate themselves before the Three set high upon their plinth in the chamber's centre.

Sunlight shafted through the attenuated windows, piercing the cool shadows and striking splendid sparks of colour from the gods' silver and gold wrought bodies, their ruby eyes, their diamond teeth and claws. Not wood, these icons, not even for the sultan. Only the most-blessed sultan's holy man, touched by the might and majesty of the Three, knelt before wood in a desert land where no wood was to be found.

As instructed, Nerim was waiting for him beneath the swathes of silk draped overhead from wall to wall. Less expected was the sight of Zazoor, an older mirror image of Nerim but, by some strange alchemy, more real, more vital, by the gods' grace distilled to the purest essence of intellect and honour. Kneeling on the carpets beside his young brother, head lowered and eyes half-closed in concentration, he listened to Nerim prattle breathlessly about -

Shugat frowned. Without hearing a single word he knew exactly what Nerim was prattling about. In his tightened grasp his staff quivered, and the single gods'Tear in his forehead flashed white fire.

Zazoor glanced up. One hand lifted, silencing his brother's rattling tongue. After a long, steady look at his holy man he turned his head, lips brushing Nerim's sun-scorched cheek. He whispered something into his brother's crimson-tipped ear. Nerim nodded, smiled, kissed his brother's hand, placed Zazoor's palm atop his head in formal obeisance and withdrew, skipping past like a camel colt caught in mischief.

Zazoor looked after him, a rueful smile thawing, a little, his natural reserve. 'We both know there is no wilful disobedience in him, my holy man,' he said, voice and dark blue eyes tranquil. 'He was but overwhelmed by his experiences in New Ottosland. Did he drive you to complete distraction?'

Shugat scowled. 'Not quite complete. My sultan — '

Zazoor raised a placating hand, i know. I know. His intellect is… feeble. But he has a good heart and in some ways he is closer to the people than I, their sultan. It's why I sent him with you, Shugat. As a barometer.' 'You think I did not know that?'

'No,' said Zazoor. 'I can hide nothing from my redoubtable Shugat. What did you learn from him?'

He snorted. 'What you already knew, Zazoor. That weak eyes are easily dazzled.'

Zazoor grinned, a rare flashing of white teeth, and uncoiled from the carpet to stand lightly on the balls of his feet, poised for any challenge the Three saw fit to provide. 'So you did not care overmuch for my dear old school chum Lional?'

He would have spat, were it not that he stood in the gods' room, in their presence. 'A veritable sand viper, Zazoor, and I fear I slight the snake to say so.' He grimaced. 'Even a sand viper may be spit-and-roasted if starvation is the only other choice. Not so this Lional. The flesh of New Ottosland's king would dissolve a man's teeth in his gums and burst his belly with acid bile.'

'In other words,' said Zazoor, 'he hasn't changed.' He indicated one of the marble benches set into the wall of the gods' room, in deference to the old and the infirm and the very young who found themselves in need of the gods' succour or assistance.'Come. Let us sit and talk, old friend.'

Shugat bowed to the Three, shining in the sunlight, then took his place at Zazoor's side. Leaning back into the seating alcove, right knee drawn up to his chest, arms linked loosely about it, Zazoor considered him, one eyebrow raised in silent enquiry.

'This Lional is a bad man, my Sultan,' he said, shaking his head.'He wishes us nothing but ill.' Zazoor frowned. 'How do you know?'

He bared his stumpy teeth in a grim smile. 'He offers you the hand of his only sister in marriage.'

'Princess Melissande? Yes. So Nerim said.' Zazoor pursed his hps in thought.'I met her. Years ago. A squat child with hair like rusty nails. I don't suppose…'

'Alas, no. Outwardly the lowliest maid in your smallest village is more comely to the eye.'

'Ah.' Zazoor sighed. He was a kind man. 'A pity, then, for her sake.'

'The palace servants say she is strict but fair, honest and overworked,' he added. 'Beauty burns away beneath the sun, Zazoor, but an honourable heart withstands even Grimthak's mighty flame. I judge Princess Melissandes heart to be most honourable. She would make a worthy wife and mother of your sons but she is not for you.'

Zazoor's eyebrow lifted again.'That is not what Nerim says. Nerim says the gods most earnestly desire me to marry Lional's sister.'

'As ever, Nerim snatches at the truth like a child greedy for a sweetmeat, who takes only the wrapping and leaves the real prize behind,' he said, disapproving. 'It is Lional who says the gods desire you to marry the girl.This is untrue. I say it again, great Sultan of Kallarap: the Princess Melissande is not for you. Her destiny lies along a different path.'

'Ah,' said Zazoor, then fell silent. At length he stirred, the merest hint of a rueful smile touching his lips. 'No word yet, I suppose, on who is for me?'

He rapped his staff lightly against the side of the sultan's head. 'When the gods choose your proper wife you will be the second to know.'

Zazoor flattened his hands to his heart, the sign of obedient acceptance. 'Lional thinks, of course, to void the treaties with this proposed marriage. Perhaps more, and worse. Knowing him as I do, his offer does not surprise me.'

'More and worse,' Shugat said grimly. 'You have the right of it. You must refuse the king's offer in such a way that he cannot vent his rage upon his sister. For that, I judge, is the honour of his heart.'

Zazoor smiled. 'As always, friend Shugat, your eyes see a man's soul as keenly as Vorsluk.'Then his smile faded and his face took on a solemn cast. 'Nerim says Vorsluk and Lalchak were present in Lional's court. He says they answered Lional's plea but not your own. He says Vorsluk spoke on Lional's command.' His breath caught in his throat as though he were nearly overcome. 'These are wonders I did not think to hear, Shugat, and I confess I find them hard to believe… but can I deny them? Nerim is my brother and for all his foolishness he does not lie.'

Shugat rested his chin on his chest and sighed deeply. 'Nerim's faith is pure. He looks at the world with the eyes of a child, Zazoor, and in his breast beats the heart of a child. Like a child he cannot conceive of wickedness and perfidy. I may at times long to beat him, but still I would have him thus till the end of his days if to have him otherwise gave him the eyes and heart of a man like Lional. Nerim saw and believed what he was intended to see and believe. There was a bird, and it did speak. But it was not the voice ofVorsluk that Nerim and I heard.'

'Then what was it?' said Zazoor, after a moment of silent surprise.

He shrugged. 'What else but some feathered thing captured and taught to mimic speech? Trained to speak on Lional's command.'

'It is possible, I suppose,' Zazoor agreed, frowning. 'But what of Lalchak? Nerim says the Lion showed Lional great favour and did not smite him with tooth or claw.' 'Lions, too, can be tamed and trained.'

'Then this was trickery?' said Zazoor. 'But how can that be? The Three are hidden from all but the Kallarapi. How could Lional know them if this was a ruse?'

Shugat smoothed his rough robe over his knee. 'So there is one thing Nerim did not tell you.' 'I do not understand,' said Zazoor, staring. 'Perhaps not. But do you recall, my sultan, a time at school when you succumbed to temptation? Drank wine to excess? Gambled with Lional… and lost the bet?'

As sleeping memory stirred the blood drained from beneath Zazoor's golden skin, leaving him pale and shaken. 'Grimthak burn me…' he whispered.

'My sultan, unburden your heart. Purge yourself of this sin that we might take undistracted action against New Ottosland's dishonourable, oath-breaking king.'

Zazoor nodded, suddenly looking no older than Nerim. Looking shamefaced and sorrowful. 'As you say, Shugat. As a young student I was foolish and intemperate. I made a wager with Lional and I lost. On my knees 1 begged him not to demand the forfeit. He insisted. Said only a man without honour would welch on a bet. So I told him what he wanted to know. I–I gave him what I should not have possessed.' Zazoor closed his eyes. 'The smallest shard of andaleya!

Shugat flinched. He had not been expecting that. 'You took one of the Gods' Tears to school with you?'

'Yes,' whispered Zazoor. 'When I returned for my second year. I was so unhappy there, Shugat. Lional made my life a misery. I wanted a piece of home to give me comfort.'

Zazoor, Zazoor. 'That was not well done, my sultan.'

'No. It was not.' Zazoor stared out of a window, remembering, i begged Lional never to show the andaleya to anyone or repeat what, honour-bound, I had revealed of the Three. He agreed. And to my surprise he kept his word. I had forgotten it ever happened… or not permitted myself to remember.' Still stricken, Zazoor bowed his head. 'Shugat, I am shamed. Unworthy'

He patted Zazoor's arm. 'And yet the gods saw fit to make you Sultan.'

'You are right,' Zazoor said slowly. 'They did. They have a task for me to complete.' His clenched fist drummed his bent knee.'If I could but fathom Lional's intentions! There is more to this business than treaties and tariffs, Shugat. Some greater treachery stirs the sands. In my dreams I feel a breeze that promises to become a mighty storm, strong enough to drown us all in a river of blood.'

'As ever, Zazoor, your heart is open to hear the gods' whispers,' he said. 'This is a true dream. It is clear to me now that Lional desires you to marry his sister so he might gain access to all the andaleya in our desert. To his infidel eyes it is a treasure to be exploited. He does not believe the Three even exist.'

Zazoor closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to his knee.'So it is war. After centuries of peace. War, because one child disliked another. Nursed his hurts, fed them and watered them, cosseted them until he grew to manhood and they to hatred. War, Shugat, for no other reason than a warped man's greed for wealth and revenge.' He sprang to his feet and began pacing the blue-and-green carpets. The heels of his red leather boots thumped softly, like the beating of distant drums. 'New Ottosland has no army. With but a tenth of my warriors could I grind their green fields to dust. Is Lional mad?'

Shugat nodded. 'Yes, my sultan. Mad as a scorpion, or a man boiled too long in the sun. But he does not think it will come to war. You know he sees us as little more than superstitious tent dwellers grubbing in the sand. Nerim's gullibility easily convinced him that we think our gods are on his side.'

Zazoor turned, his eyes ablaze. 'And what of you, Shugat? What did you do to show Lional his error? To show him that the Three are our gods and do not truck with outsiders?' He hesitated.'Nothing,' he said at last.

Zazoor spread his arms wide in entreaty.' Why? I sent you to New Ottosland as I would have sent myself. Why did you not act?'Then he lowered his arms and took a step back, the fire in his eyes doused with shock.'You believed him?'

'I — ' Shugat took a firmer hold of his staff. In his forehead he felt the heat as a small pulse of white fire beat deep in the heart of the andaleya. i was unsure,' he admitted.'At first. When I called upon the gods to strike Lional down and they did not, I thought — it seemed — ' He rapped the staff into the carpets. 'When I asked them for guidance they did not reply. I do not question the gods, Zazoor! Silence answers as loudly as a shout!'

Sudden anger spent, Zazoor stepped close, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and rested their foreheads together, i understand,' he whispered. 'Forgive me for doubting you.'

For the briefest moment Shugat cradled his hand to the back of Zazoor's neck; then he smacked the side of the sultan's head in remonstration. 'You're forgiven,' he growled. 'But do not do it again.'

Like a child in the schoolroom Zazoor dropped cross-legged to the carpeted floor and stared up at him, his face once more calm and composed, all shame wiped away.'The gods are not with Lional.' His smile was fierce.'No. They are not.' 'They have told you this, Shugat?'

'They have.' He raised his staff. 'My words are the words of the Three, of Grimthak and Lalchak and Vorsluk, Holy of Holies, greatest of all gods,' he said, his voice taking on the singsong cadence of holy pronouncement. 'Hear their words and obey or perish in Grimthak's flame, by Lalchak's teeth andVorsluk's talons.'

Zazoor pressed his face to the floor. 'What is their will, Holy Shugat? I will hear it and obey'

'You will ride to New Ottosland at the head of an army' he intoned. His eyes were rolled in their sockets, now, till only a yellow-white crescent remained, and the stone in his forehead blazed like the sun. 'A large army?'

He felt his crescented eyes flicker. 'Fifty men from each village one day's ride from the palace.'

'As soon as the sun sets I shall send the proclamation to each village leader on the swiftest camels,' Zazoor promised. 'And after that, Shugat?'

Slowly Shugat lowered his staff, blinking. His vision returned to normal and the andaleya's incandescence faded. Frowning, he stared at a fading shaft of sunlight then at last stirred and looked down at the sultan. 'After that you wait, Zazoor.' Zazoor sat up. 'For what?'

'For the whisper in your heart. It will tell you what to do.'

Zazoor nodded. Then he said, hesitantly, 'Forgive me, Shugat, but does it not seem to you, as it seems to me, that the gods' pronouncements have of late been more cryptic than once they were?'

Leaning forward, he patted Zazoor's cheek. 'When we are children our parents tell us precisely what we must and must not do, for our understanding is circumscribed and our knowledge of the world incomplete. But when we are grown they nod and say, "We have taught you well. Go now into the world and remember what you learned at our table.'"

'Indeed,' said Zazoor, and laughed. 'You are wise, Shugat, and patient beyond understanding. In the name of the Three I praise you thrice.'

Shugat nodded, acknowledging, but did not reply. His thoughts again were snared in the sunlight, and the memory of a man who yet disturbed him. A touch on his knee; he looked at Zazoor.

'Shugat? What is it? What have you not told me?'

'There was another man in the audience with Lional,' he said slowly. Then he pulled a face.'I say man, but youth is more truthful. A fingerful of years older than Nerim, no more.'

'Ah! The wizard. Nerim said. What of him? Lional has had many wizards since he came to the throne, each gone more swiftly than the one before. Nerim says it's whispered in the palace that Lional lacks the loving touch. Doubtless this one will disappear as quickly as the rest.'

'He is not like the other wizards,' said Shugat. 'From afar I read them and remained at peace. But this one? Power like a bud yet to blossom curls within his breast, and all around him a roiling of darkness.'

Seeing his discomfort, Zazoor rose smoothly from the carpeted floor, his eyes chilled to cold purpose once more.'He is evil?'

'No…' he said, after deep thought. 'Not evil. And yet evil surrounds him…'

Zazoor's frown was suspicious, it sounds most strange. What must I do with this wizard when I find him? Kill him? You say he is not evil but there is fear and doubt in your eyes, Shugat! I see it, plain as a bird in the sky. What is to be done with Lional's enchanter?'

Shugat sighed, i am sorry, Zazoor. On this matter the gods stay silent. I have asked them, for this Gerald Dunwoody fills me with foreboding, but all they will tell me is: wait!

'Then at least tell me this, for I trust in your judgement,' said Zazoor. 'Do you think him a danger to Kallarap?'

Shugat pursed his lips, considering. 'Perhaps. Or perhaps he is more of a danger to Lional. Or perhaps… at the end of the day when the sun has set and the camels chew cud in their stables… perhaps the biggest danger he poses is to himself.' 'As ever you speak in riddles, my friend.'

'The day I speak but plainly' Shugat replied, allowing himself a smile, 'is the day the gods have done with me!'

'A day long hence, I implore them!' said Zazoor, and kissed his fingers to the Three. 'Shugat, will you ride with me back to the court of King Lional?'

His bones were peevish just at the thought, but he nodded. 'I will. The gods decree 1 must return there and see their desires fulfilled. There is a mystery with Lional, his wizard and his blaspheming beasts that I must pierce to the heart lest it poison us all. For good or ill our future lies with them, and in this brewing storm… though why that is I cannot say'

'The ride to New Ottosland is long and slow,' said Zazoor. 'Can we reach it before the storm breaks?'

'Time has no meaning for the Three. I am given power to bend time, that it might serve our purpose and the purpose of the gods.'

'Truly, they are great,' Zazoor whispered. 'Shugat, pray with me.'

Together they knelt before the shrine and prostrated themselves in supplication. What Zazoor heard then, Shugat did not know. But in his heart he heard the whispers of the gods and felt himself complete, and at peace.