The Crusading Wizard

CHAPTER 29

The other three turned to stare at her.

“I must go,” she insisted. “I cannot leave four kittens—I mean, children—torn away from their mothers.”

Matt could see the fear in her eyes, but also the determination. “Are you sure?” he asked. “This isn’t really your fight.”

“But it is,” Balkis said. She passed a hand over her forehead, closing her eyes, and wavered for a moment, as with a passing dizziness. Lakshmi leaped forward to help, but Balkis recovered and waved her off, explaining, “Somehow, deep in my bones, I know it is my battle as well as yours. The fairies told me I came from the East, after all, and the caravans took me from the East into Europe. Whoever set me on my course had probably suffered from this zealot’s armies.” Her eyes burned with anger. “He robbed me of my life, whether he knew it or not, and the fact that the spirits gave me a new life that was good and rich does not pardon him. He may not know he has hurt me, there may be hundreds of thousands whom he does not know he has hurt, but that is all the more reason to punish him!”

Prester John listened, gaze intent on her face.

“Okay,” Matt said. “Just make sure you don’t get punished yourself.”

“I will not,” Balkis assured him, but her voice trembled. Nonetheless, she waved her hand, forearm swooping like the bottom of a curtain in front of her, and the air thickened and clouded about her. Then the small calico cat stepped out of the cloud.

“Come, little one.” Lakshmi held down a hand. “Let me send you to the high priest’s chamber.”

“Take some care,” Prester John warned.

“I shall use a spell that will return her to us in half an hour’s time.” Lakshmi picked up Balkis, set the cat on her palm, and recited a spell. A small whirlwind blew up from her palm, churning two feet high, then died down and disappeared. Her hand was empty.

“Brave kid,” Matt said, feeling his stomach go hollow.

Balkis felt the world tum solid, saw the whirlwind about her cease, and stumbled, head still whirling. She fought to steady herself, feeling so vulnerable as to be on the verge of panic. When the floor stopped tilting, she took a step without staggering, and could finally pay some attention to her surroundings.

She stood on a Persian carpet in the center of a very large room. To her right stood a high bed with a golden coverlet. To her left, chairs and tables stood around the room, padded with cushions and inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory. More cushions were heaped about the floor surrounding low tables. There was one high table littered with books and pieces of parchment, one huge tome lying open. True to her word, Lakshmi had sent the little cat to Arjasp’s private chamber.

Fortunately, he wasn’t there at the moment. There wasn’t too great a chance that he would be, during the daytime—Arjasp was probably the de facto governor of Maracanda as well as the brains behind the whole barbarian onslaught—but it was still a relief.

Her heart quailed within her, but Balkis forced herself to study the room more closely. Despite the carpet and the cloth-of-gold, it was nowhere nearly as luxuriously furnished as she would have expected. So much the better—there were fewer hiding places. She looked down at the ring on her foreleg.

It was so bright it dazzled her.

She tore her eyes away with a surge of elation—the children were near! Then she began to prowl, letting her natural feline curiosity take its course. She seemed to remember having heard, sometime in the past, about the effects of curiosity upon cats, but ignored it—she wasn’t idly inspecting, she was searching.

She searched for most of her half hour, her heart thudding in her breast every minute for fear of detection. She found no trace of the bottle, though the ring was so bright it rivaled the sunshine that spilled through the carved screen over the window. She inspected the lamps closely, but the ring was no brighter near them than farther from them.

Finally she stood in the center of the room, faced the door, and turned slowly about, watching the ring for changes in brightness. She had turned a half-circle when she heard footsteps approaching the door.

Balkis looked about her, heart in her throat, searching for a hiding place. It was a choice between the piles of cushions and the bed. She chose the bed.

The cloth-of-gold coverlet came down to the floor. She scampered under it, feeling well hidden in the gloom—and the ring flared.

Balkis stared at it a moment; it was so bright that it lit up the under-bed space so that she could see every knot in the ropes that held up the mattress. But where was the bottle? The ring was telling her that the little djinn were nearby, but where? She padded about under the bed quickly, looking into every corner, but found no bottle, no lamp, no ring other than the one she wore. She heard the door open, though her own heartbeat threatened to drown it out, and looked up at the mattress in desperation, waiting and dreading to hear a body lie down on it.

There, hanging from the knotted ropes, hung a brooch with a huge crystal of rose quartz.

Slow footsteps moved from the door to the desk—she heard parchment rattle. A rasping, quavering voice said, “They cannot prevail so without their wizards! Has this self-proclaimed Mahdi such excellent magicians as to stifle the best efforts of our best sorcerers?”

“Master, he must have djinn to aid him,” a quavering fruity voice answered. Balkis instantly saw a fat middle-aged man in her mind’s eye, multiple chins trembling at Arjasp’s agitation.

“The djinn are banned!” Arjasp ranted. “We have bid them leave the struggle on pain of the deaths of their children! Even if they seek the brats, they would have left the sultan’s force!”

“Perhaps they have left lesser members of their kind behind,” the aide suggested.

“And who would control them? Again, wizards! I am certain it cannot be the Lord Wizard of Merovence—I did not forbid him to seek his children, so I have no doubt he is attempting to do so! Much good may it do him,” Arjasp added as an afterthought, reveling in the notion.

“Perhaps he has left junior sorcerers behind,” the aide suggested.

“They could not be so adept as to foil the ones whom I have trained! And now, to make it worse, Prester John has broken out of his prison! We must have protection!”

“Surely our barbarians can hold him back,” the aide protested, “and if not, there are the city’s walls …”

“We shall call the horsemen in, not risk them against his army. They are only a garrison, after all—but all of them manning the city’s walls should hold us secure until help can come.” A chair scraped, parchment rattled—Arjasp sitting down at the desk. “This Tafas bin Daoud has too many soldiers, and they ride too well! We dare not chance the Caliph using him to chase our horsemen back to their steppes! We must have more warriors.”

Balkis heard a pen scratching.

“Take this letter to the general who commands the troops attacking China,” Arjasp ordered. “Have him withdraw all but enough to hold the men of Han at the Great Wall! He must bring his force to exterminate Prester John and his army once and for all! Then without delay they can go to the front in Persia, before we lose all we have gained!”

“Excellency, it shall be done!”

“Of course it shall be done!” Arjasp roared. Metal tinkled, and he said, “Give this chain and amulet to the courier who will bear the message! It will protect him from djinn and afrits as he travels.”

“Must we forego the conquest of China, then?” the aide asked, voice quavering still.

“No, but we must delay it! Their emperor is so decadent, and his government so rotten, that a fraction of our barbarian army can easily hold them until Prester John has been buried and the Caliph fully defeated. When all is secure in the West, we may tum east again! Then the horde can ride back to finish the conquest of China. Now go and see it done!”

Hurried footsteps padded to the door; it swung open and closed.

The chair scraped, and Arjasp’s slower steps scuffed the rug as he paced back and forth, muttering to himself.

Balkis crouched in the ring-lit world under the bed, waiting for him to leave. Then she began to feel a very queer sensation, as though invisible fingers were pulling at her, not up or down or sideways, but in some direction that was neither. Her fur stood on end; she barely managed to keep herself from arching her back and spitting. In the nick of time she realized that she was feeling the pull of the spell that would return her to Lakshmi.

There wasn’t a moment to spare. Balkis stood up and began to worry at the brooch with her teeth, trying to pull the pin loose from the rope. The return spell pulled more strongly—but some warding spell of the high priest’s began to tug at her, too, and she felt stretched between them with her middle in a void.

The footsteps stopped with an exclamation of surprise. Then they began again, approaching the bed.

Fear pierced Balkis as she realized the tug-of-war between the two spells could tear her apart—and that the tension had alerted Arjasp to a presence within his private chamber. If he saw her, what would he do?

Whatever it was, it would be painful. She worried at the brooch, twisted and tugged.

Old bones creaked as Arjasp knelt by his bed. The bed-skirts lifted, showing a faded but angry blue eye beneath a shaggy white eyebrow next to a blade of nose over a voluminous white moustache and beard. The eye narrowed in anger and Arjasp shouted, “Leave be! Whatever manner of creature you are, let go of that brooch!” A palsied, bony hand reached under the bed, hooked to catch Balkis.

“That’s more than half an hour!” Matt cried. “She isn’t back yet! What’s wrong?”

“Peace, Lord Wizard.” Prester John laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are not her father, you know.”

“No, but I’m responsible for her. She’s only a kid, blast it! I shouldn’t have let her go! Lakshmi, what’s wrong?”

“Something is fighting my spell, striving to hold her prisoner.” Lakshmi’s brow was beaded with sweat. “Lend me strength, husband. You also, wizards! We must have her back and dare not delay!”

Matt seized her hand as she reached for Marudin with the other. John tightened his grip on Matt’s shoulder.

“All together, now!” Matt started singing,

But Prester John interrupted, calling,

Matt yelped with dismay as the whirlwind caught him up, spun him around, rotated him to the horizontal, spinning, spinning …

Spun. He landed flat-faced on something soft but solid. A skinny hand closed on his wrist, and he wrenched it loose by reflex, snarling. A voice cried out; there was a scrambling, then running footsteps, a creaky old voice calling for guards and assistant sorcerers, and a door opening.

As the surroundings stopped reeling, Matt realized he was under a bed that was lit by a rosy light—and was nose-to-nose with a very frightened Balkis. The cat mewed in astonishment at seeing him—and a brooch fell from her mouth. Matt caught it just as she disappeared.

The little cat squalled with surprise and pain, for she found herself suspended by the forepaws between Prester John and Lakshmi.

“Put her down, quickly!” the djinna said, but the calico cat’s form clouded, stretched, and turned into a teenage girl, standing tall and squeezing the hands that held hers in a panic. “We must help him, quickly! The Lord Wizard is in Arjasp’s private chamber! The sorcerer is calling for guards and magicians! They shall overwhelm him by sheer numbers, and he will be too stubborn to let go of the brooch so that he can escape!”

“What brooch?” Prester John demanded.

“The brooch that has the kittens in it!” she cried. “That foul Arjasp transported them into a jewel, not a bottle—and he has enchanted it with a spell that held it near him, no matter how hard we pulled away!”

“Be sure Matthew will not let it go if it has his children in it,” Lakshmi snapped, “and ours! It is the brooch that has the holding spell?”

“Yes! Enchant it! Make him drop it! Whisk him away!”

“An excellent thought.” Lakshmi, still holding Marudin’s hand, closed her eyes and chanted in Arabic. When she opened them, she seemed much more relaxed, even smiled.

Balkis looked about her. “He has not come!”

“Of course not,” said Lakshmi. “Arjasp would follow such a spell and appear beside us here with all his forces.”

“Then where have you sent him?” Balkis asked, eyes round.

Lakshmi smiled. “Do you not remember the Lord Wizard telling us that he who has babes gives hostages to fortune?”

“You have not sent him there!”

“Of course.” Lakshmi shrugged. “They seemed to like each other well enough, after all.”

The air clouded and developed into streaked and curving colors whirling around a vortex, right there in front of them.

Balkis cried out and ducked behind Lakshmi. Prester John stepped to the fore, but Marudin stepped in front of him, arms out to protect them all.

The color wheel streaked more and more tightly as it turned until it shrank into the contours of a large woman wrapped in a voluminous garment, a fluffy turban, and a look of high indignation. In her arms she held Matt, brooch and all, dripping wet. She dropped him unceremoniously at Lakshmi’s feet and jammed her fists on her hips. “Most embarrassing! Have a care where you send your victims, young woman, and when! I have no wish to have unexpected company arrive when I am in the bath—especially when they arrive in the bath! I can only say it is well that I use plenty of bubbles!”

“I had never thought.” Lakshmi hung her head in repentance—and to hide her smile. “Your pardon, Excellent Dame.”

“Well … there is no damage done, after all,” Fortune said, somewhat mollified. She transferred her gaze to Matt. “Have a care, young man, or I shall send word to your wife, telling her that you come unexpectedly upon poor women in their private moments. Be warned—never involve me in your machinations again, or I shall rig my darts to always land in the wrong squares on your wheel!”

Matt climbed to his feet, all meekness and apology. “I am very, very sorry, Good Dame. I certainly never intended to intrude.” He lifted his head a little, cracking a smile. “However, I must say that you do look grand in a towel and turban.”

“Well! Such cheek!” said Dame Fortune, clearly flattered. “See that you behave yourself in the future!” She turned about and disappeared, leaving behind only a whirling disk of colors and a mollified but very indignant sniff.

Matt sagged. “I suppose I have to thank you for the rescue, Princess—but it was a bit of a shock.”

“You are welcome.” Lakshmi snatched the brooch from his hand and frowned, studying it. “How shall we enter here?”

“Isn’t the point to bring them out, not go in?” Matt asked.

“I do not trust it,” Lakshmi said. “They might be caught between my spell and whatever force holds them.”

“Even so!” Balkis said. “I felt stretched between the pull of your spell and Arjasp‘s wards!”

“So he works that way, huh?” Matt frowned. “That means somebody has to go in and bring them out, all right.” He turned to Prester John. “You’d better march on and attack the city, Your Majesty. We’re going to have our hands full for a little while.”

“If you say it,” John said, but he seemed doubtful.

“Be warned,” Balkis said. “I overheard Arjasp order a messenger to China, to send troops to aid his forces against your soldiers.”

“I regret that we shall not be able to accompany you,” Lakshmi said, gaze still intent on the gem, “but we must recover our children first.”

“Indeed,” John said, decision firming. “I shall see if I can remove this canker that plagues us. May good fortune attend you!”

“After she’s dried off,” Matt said, with an apprehensive glance at the region of air where the color wheel had been. “Thanks, Majesty. See you in Maracanda.”

“In Maracanda,” John confirmed. He turned his horse and rode back to his troops.

Matt turned to join Lakshmi in gazing at the gem. “I’ll go.”

“They are my children,” Marudin said. “I shall go.”

“We shall all go.” Lakshmi held up the brooch. “Gaze into the gem—let it seem to grow to fill all the space about you—let yourself become lost in it.”

Matt gazed, feeling as though he were being hypnotized, and heard Lakshmi’s voice droning in Arabic. He was just realizing that she was speaking in rhyme and meter when the rosiness of the quartz seemed to envelop him and pull him in.

He found himself trying to walk, but the pink fog about him seemed to be sticky, clinging to him, trying to hold him back. “Are we there yet?” he called.

“Not yet,” Lakshmi’s voice answered, seeming distant. “Strive, wizard! Press on a little longer!”

Then, abruptly, the mist pulled back, cleared—and Matt saw what had been making it red. Two flames burned brightly before him, each ten feet tall, each with eyes toward its top—narrowed eyes that glared down at them as though seeking to pierce them. The flames began to move toward the companions; at the bottoms they divided and became legs, stamping forward on feet of coals.

“Avaunt!” Lakshmi cried, her voice dropping into a strange accent. “Thou dost stand betwixt me and my babes!”

The fire roared higher and kept on coming.

What happened next was too fast for Matt to follow. All he saw was the two djinn moving in blurs and little bits of flame flying everywhere. He did manage to make out that Marudin was taking the left-hand flame and Lakshmi the right, but not exclusively. He knew he had to do something to help. The only thing that came to mind was,

A deluge struck, and a hiss like that of a thousand serpents went up with a cloud of steam.

” ‘Nothing succeeds like excess,’ “ Matt quoted to himself, and called out one more:

Sure enough, the stinging drops hardened into half-inch balls of ice. Matt gave it ten minutes, until he saw the last of the flames die down. Then he called out,

It wasn’t exactly a bud, more like an overblown rose—but the rain slackened. When it lifted, the two djinn were lying, spent and gasping, near two small piles of very dead coals.

Balkis let out a cry and dashed to Lakshmi. Matt thought that was a good idea and went to Marudin. He picked up the djinn’s wrist, felt for a pulse, and wondered if djinn had blood—but if they didn’t, they certainly had an equivalent, for Marudin’s pulse was strong and steady. Matt held a hand in front of his nostrils and felt breath. He scanned the prince anxiously, but didn’t see any signs of injury except some red patches that faded even as he watched.

“I can see no wounds,” Balkis called anxiously, “yet still she sleeps and does not revive.”

“I think that fight took an awful lot out of them,” Matt said, thinking as he said it. “Energy, I mean. Also breath—the flames used up all the oxygen, that close to them. That’s probably what knocked them out.” He sat back on his heels. “I think they’ll revive on their own if we just wait long enough.”

“We dare not!” Balkis spun to him, eyes wide. “Surely Arjasp knows we have come into the gem! If he did not see us take it, then surely the fall of these sentries will have told him!”

“You’re right.” Matt stood up and turned away. “We’ll have to let them recover on their own.” He gave Balkis a long, steady look. “It’s going to be very scary. There might be worse than this.”

“Do you think I am afraid?” Balkis stood up, back straight, chin high. “Well, so I am! But I shall press on! Four kittens are in peril!”

“Stout heart.” Matt smiled. “And this way, at least the fear won’t take you by surprise. Let’s go, and hope the djinn catch up with us when we need them.” He took her hand and stepped over the piles of coals.

The pink mist closed about them again.