Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) (62 page)

“As for the trick being simple sorcery, that is only partly true. The trick required energy, although I did not draw on the power required from the usual sources. As an aside, you might have noted I made no chant, nor did I use any magical ingredients. ”

She looked about the crowd. “Would you all agree that magic requires energy and produces energy — sometimes seeming like more is produced than is drawn?”

There were mutters and nods of agreement.

“Would you also agree that you draw that energy from... elsewhere... which is why more force may be displayed than is easily observable to the casual viewer?”

Some frowned but many repeated the nods and murmurs of acceptance, especially the younger wizards Tobray had scorned.

“And that energy you use is finite and sometimes when you cast your mind to that... other place... too soon after your first action there is not enough left to repeat the spell. So you must cast... farther, so to speak, to find more?”

Fewer still agreed. But those who did beamed as if in sudden understanding.

“I won’t you ask to take my word for these things,” Janela said. “That is against the very nature of my great-grandfather’s beliefs. All assumptions must be tested and tested again. Afterwards, if you are interested, I will show you how I conducted my experiments, and where I found my insights — many of which are from your own archives.”

When she said that, many who seemed in doubt relaxed. Tobray was in this group. It heartened me to see he at least had a practical mind and sound instincts.

“What did you mean, my Lady,” Tobray asked, “when you said you used a different energy source for the bracelet trick?”

“Why, I got it from the power produced when you threw and I retrieved,” Janela said.

“That’s not possible!” Vakram snapped.

He seemed worried, although I couldn’t make out why. He hadn’t a reputation as a wizard who proposed ideas that were worthy of threat.

“As I said, my Lord,” Janela replied, “you may test all I’ve claimed afterwards. But I tell you, my fellow magi, that
any
power can be used for sorcerous purposes. Just as your breath has force enough to turn a child’s wheel toy, it can also power a small bit of magic, such as sweetening your breath if you fouled it at lunch with a garlic dish.” Janela grinned. “But I doubt it’s enough to sweeten a foul temper.”

There was much laughter at Vakram’s expense. He glowered about him, making all only laugh louder. But when his eyes caught the Prince’s wide grin he quickly turned away.

After silencing him Janela moved on. “Now, we can all speculate quite easily on what forces are at work in this, the common world. The natural world. There is heat and light, the force that makes things fall, the force that draws a compass needle, the various forces imparted by motion and that displayed when lightning strikes. And so on and so forth.

“Then there are uncommon forces. The forces of the spiritual, of magic and sorcery. Which again take many forms. All of which I think may someday prove to be mere counterparts of common forces. The opposite side of the coin, if you will.”

“What of the gods, my Lady?” Tobray asked.

“What of them?” Janela said. “They must obey the same laws as you and I. If they exist at all.”

There were gasps at this heresy. But I noted the gasps were few. There were more doubters than I would have imagined in Farsun’s ghostly court chamber.

“Are you saying magic is no more important than these other forces?” Tobray said quite calmly, showing by his mild tones that he was among those doubters.

“It isn’t a question of importance, my Lord,” Janela answered. “Use determines such things. If I need to cook that garlic dish Lord Vakram favors then heat must rule or he will go hungry or eat a poor meal.”

Vakram flushed deeply but said nothing. The laughter was subdued. Janela saw her mistake in pressing her advantage over an already defeated opponent and shifted ground.

“The real importance,” she said, “is that all the forces we’ve discussed — and those we skimmed over — are actually one force. We separate it only because that is what we observe. Heat cooks. Light lights. And so on.”

“It’s as if there were one god,” Tobray said, “but with many faces. And we see the face we wish to see or are forced to.”

“And that god...” Janela began...

“... would be a force himself,” Tobray completed for her. “And therefore merely a part of the whole.

“Assuming,” Janela said, “that He... or She... exists.”

“Yes, yes,” Tobray muttered. “Assuming that.”

Vakram roused himself. “Might I be so bold, my Lady,” he said, “to ask a question and be spared your sharp wit?”

“I’m sorry for that,” Janela answered. “I was nervous from being in such august company and spoke without thinking.”

Vakram nodded but I knew he hadn’t accepted her apology. “My question is this: What does it matter if there is one force or many? As Lord Tobray so aptly put it, I cannot eat this knowledge. Even with garlic. And I cannot form it into anything useful.”

“You can by using the tools you are most adept at, my Lord,” Janela replied. “Which are your magical tools. It is the practice of sorcery, not religion, that leads not only to understanding but the ability to manipulate at will.”

She waved the table of objects. “I had many things I was going to use to demonstrate,” she said. “But I don’t think it’s necessary now. I’ll teach any and all of you my methods. And in my notes you’ll find my proofs. I’m certain I erred in many things. I was in a rush. Even so, I’d stake my life on the final results.

“As for practical use, why that is the only reason I pleaded for this assemblage. If it were merely academic I would have spoken to you separately.”

“You mean the demons?” the Prince broke in. “You’ve found a way to turn your knowledge into a spear against the demons?” His eyes sparkled with youthful hope.

“Yes, your Highness,” Janela said. “I believe I have.”

She swiveled, pointing to a pair of the tree’s great roots.

“You have all seen the tree that towers over these ruins,” she said. “Just as you all know it is magical.”

“We do indeed, my Lady,” Tobray said. “But it’s magic isn’t of any importance. The tree is just a pretty that makes a day more pleasant for lovers.”

“I beg your forgiveness for contradicting you, my Lord,” Janela said. “But it is more than a romantic pretty. If you examine it you will see it gives off more power than it could possibly require for its needs. The very demonstration I made with the gold bracelet was much easier to perform because we are in its presence.

“I believe it, and its kind were bred to produce such energy, like flowers are improved by gardeners for their fragrance. It was grown here for a purpose of vast importance in your history. Its presence, sirs and ladies, is not the result of idle fancy, but the design of a witch who discovered a magical spring that is twin to or even the same spring that flowed in her homeland.”

“Where does the tree get this power, my Lady?” Tobray asked.

“From the world the demons rule,” Janela answered. “From the realm of King Ba’land, himself.”

The wizards were rocked by this. Loud argument raged between them until Tobray brought them to order with an imperious wave of his hand.

“Please explain further, my Lady,” he said.

“Gladly,” Janela said. “The tree draws on the power of the demons’ natural world — if you can imagine such a thing — just as they draw on ours. Except they are leeches, consuming all they can. Especially human misery, a force we haven’t spoken of. But it’s there, my lords and ladies. It’s there. And it is that hunger for our misery and greed for our resources that drives them, that has led them to ravage us all these thousands of years.

“You should know this as well. All that is common in our world, is magical in theirs. And all that is common there is magical here. Which is what the tree feeds on.

“The tree that can give us an entirely different kind of power. That is power over our enemies.”

Another uproar. But this time I heard no debate. These were long-suffering people, anxious to grasp at the smallest hope.

“You all know the story,” Janela said, “of King Farsun and his queen, Monavia.”

There was a buzz of agreement. “We know it well,” Tobray said, smiling. “It’s one of Tyrenia’s most popular children’s fables. The good queen and the cowardly king. The demon who lusted after and used his evil to win the dancer.”

Solaros broke in, adding, “And the prince who was kept in the tower by his father’s cowardice.” He looked around at the others. “You didn’t know that, did you?” he said. “That’s part of the tale that’s never told. Lord Antero recited it to me just the other day. Just another example of the things Lady Greycloak has dug up that have been under our noses all along.”

Janela laughed. “Thank you, your Highness,” she said. “I couldn’t have begged a greater testimonial than that.”

She took a deep breath as if resigning herself about what was to come. She withdrew the figurine of the dancer from her sleeve.

“Do you all recognize this, lords and ladies?” she asked.

“Indeed we do,” Tobray said. “It was once a popular toy in Tyrenia. Any number of them were produced.”

Bitter humor filled me when I heard that. So much had been gambled, twice, counting Janos, for what turned out to be a child’s amusement.

“I am going to attempt to show you the true story of Farsun and Monavia,” Janela said. “And in that story you will readily see how we can confound the demons.”

Janela turned to me. She smiled but I could see she wasn’t looking forward to her final demonstration.

“Amalric,” she said, “I’m likely to be affected as before. I’ve put some things by my bedside, and written directions as well. Will you administer them to me... if I cannot do it myself?”

“I think we should give the entire thing a miss,” I said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“But necessary nevertheless,” Janela said

With that, she walked out to the stone platform, placed the doll in the center and retreated.

She bowed her head in concentration. The light dimmed and the room was hushed as the familiar scene of the tiny dancing maid shimmered into view. Then the dancer vanished, leaving only the doll-like figures of the courtiers.

Janela made a great motion and we all gasped as the scene blossomed larger and larger until it filled the chamber we sat in. We became a shadowy audience peering into a past which lived again. We heard the low chatter of the courtiers as if we were among them. We listened to the music swelling from the instruments the musicians played in the pit.

The air was warm from all the bodies present and as I gaped about the court chamber I could see it was all new again. Gone were the cobweb mantles, gone were the invasive tree roots, gone was the feeling of long dead ghosts.

The banquet table groaned under the weight of fresh and tempting food. The smell of delicious sauces and spices mingled with the pleasing aroma of delicate incense. Jolly servants passed among the crowd, re-filling their plates and goblets.

But there was an evil edge to the festive spirit. There was an aftertaste in the air we breathed of sour demon flesh. Now I saw the demon courtiers moving through the crowd and in the private viewing box King Ba’land glared out with his single yellow eye. I looked over at the thrones and saw that Tyrenia’s monarch, King Farsun, was sullen and drunk. Queen Monavia sat beside him, attempting a gay smile at something a jester said. But she seemed pensive as if waiting for something to happen.

Then Ba’land roared, “Your court is wearisome tonight, Sir.” The music stopped and court chamber grew silent. Farsun shrunk and grabbed up another wine cup to hide his shame at being so rudely addressed. “Where is the dancer? Where is Thalila? Bring her on, if you please!”

Farsun gulped down the last of the wine. Motioned for a servant to fill it again.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “You are right, my friend. I was growing bored myself.” He clapped his hands, signaling for the dancer.

The musicians piped the overture and all eyes — both past and present — swiveled to the dancing platform.

It was as if an invisible curtain had parted as the maid twirled into view. She was as beautiful and seductive as ever. But before her sensuality had sprung from innocence — as if the lovely maid was unaware of the musical musk that emanated from her dance and infused the air.

This time, this dance, the innocence was gone. Thalila danced like a courtesan. Each thrust of hip and bounce of breast begged a caress. Her eyes burned with sinful wisdom and her fingers traced slow, graceful paths along her fine white limbs. Her lips were swollen, entreating a kiss. Her slender thighs trembled to be parted and pierced.

I was as aroused as I have ever been in my life. My member rose up and became like the engorged snake that had once hunted Melina, the woman who stole my innocence and left only a faint trace of her hot perfume which still disturbs my sleep. For a moment I was even carnal twin to King Ba’land, who gnashed his teeth and roared obscenities at the dancer.

I tore my eyes away to shed her spell. I glanced at the thrones and saw Queen Monavia had gone, while King Farsun was slumped over, snoring in a drunken stupor.