“Very odd,” said Shoogar, speaking low. “I have never known a magician to be named for a color.”
“Perhaps that’s not his name, but an indication of which god he serves.
“Nonsense,” Shoogar whispered back. “Then he would be either Something-the-red or Something-the-blue. But he isn’t either.”
“Perhaps he’s both — that’s why he’s purple.”
“Don’t talk foolishness, Lant. It’s impossible to serve two masters. Besides, he isn’t all purple. He’s Purple the Gray. And I’ve never heard of a gray magician.”
I turned back to the stranger, “Is that your full name? How many syllables are in the secret side of it?” He couldn’t be offended; I was not asking for the name itself.
He said, “I have given you my full name. As-A-Shade-Of-Purple-Gray.”
“You have no other? No secret name?”
“I am not sure I understand. That is my full name.”
Shoogar and I exchanged a glance. The stranger was either incredibly foolish, or exceeding cunning. Either he had betrayed his full name to us, thus delivering himself into Shoogar’s power; or he was playing the fool in order to keep Shoogar from discovering his real name. Perhaps the name he had given was some kind of spell trap. It certainly wasn’t a clue to his identity.
As-A-Shade-Of-Purple-Gray was speaking again. “Where did you come from?”
“From the village,” I started to point down the mountain, but covered the gesture quickly. No sense in telling this stranger where the village was located.
“But, I saw no village from the air .. .”
“From the air …?” Shoogar asked.
“Yes, when I flew over the area.”
At this Shoogar’s ears perked up. “Flew? You have a flying spell? How do you do it? I have not yet been able to get anything larger than a melon to fly — and I have been trapping the bubbles of noxious odor as they rise from the swamps.” Indeed, Shoogar had been trying to perfect a flying spell for as long as he had been a magician. He had even contrived to get two of my sons to aid him, Wilville and Orbur. Often they would neglect their bicycle carving to work on some strange new device for him. So great was their enthusiasm for Shoogar’s project that — much to my annoyance — they had been accepting no payment at all for their labors.
The new magician smiled at Shoogar’s description of his flying spell. “Primitive,” he said, “but it could work. My own vehicle uses somewhat more complex and efficient principles.” He pointed at his huge black nest. No. he must have meant one of the devices in it, or near it. Who could conceive of a flying nest? A nest is a home, a fixed place, a locality of refuge, a place of returning. Philosophically a nest cannot so much as move, let alone fly. What is philosophically impossible is impossible to magic. This law constrains even the gods.
“Well, show me how it works. Teach me your flying spell!” Shoogar begged excitedly.
The stranger shook his head. “I could not show that one to you either. It is beyond your understanding. ….”
This was too much for Shoogar. All evening long, this new magician had continued to insult him. Now, he refused even to gift him with a secret. Shoogar began jumping up and down in exasperation. He pulled his
“Patience, Shoogar! Please!” I begged him. “Let us return to the village. Call for a meeting of the Guild of Advisors first! Don’t challenge him to a duel until we have a chance to talk this thing out.”
Shoogar muttered something under his breath. He muttered a whole bunch of somethings. “I ought to use this
He stood and fared the new magician. “We return to our village to confer. We will visit you again before the time of the blue dawns.”
But the stranger did not seem to hear this. “I will accompany you,” he said. “I would like to see your village.”
Shoogar can be clever when he puts his mind to it. “Certainly you may accompany us,” he said. “It would be inhospitable for us not to welcome you. But you cannot leave yourself so far from your nest. Tonight the moons are down and the red curses roam the land.” (I wished Shoogar hadn’t brought that up. I remembered how far we were from home.)
Shoogar spread his hands helplessly. “If we had empty nests in the village, you would be welcome to use one — but as it is, with the time of total darkness approaching, I would not recommend straying too far from one’s own nest.”
“That’s all right,” said the stranger, “I’ll just bring it with me.”
“Huh?” said Shoogar. “How? We certainly are not going to help you. That is, neither of us has the strength to —”
As-A-Shade-Of-Purple-Gray seemed to laugh. I was becoming most tired of his laugh. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “You just lead the way and I’ll follow.”
Shoogar and I exchange a glance. Obviously this dumpy-legged stranger would be unable to keep up with our bicycles — especially if he was going to try to bring his nest. We waited respectfully, however, while the magician collapsed his artifacts and devices. I was amazed to see how easily they folded up and how compactly they stored, and made a mental note to get closer to one of them if I could. I was curious to see how the bone was carved and how the metal was worked. Perhaps I could learn something from the construction of such devices. They were carved too precisely, too delicately for me to see much in the dim light.
I glanced involuntarily at the sky. We were fast approaching the time of total darkness. Only six of the moons were left in the sky. No wonder the light was fading. I certainly did not intend to tarry for this stranger.
Within a remarkably short time, the stranger had packed up all of his devices and stowed them within his nest. There was something about his manner that made me feel vaguely uneasy; “All right,” he said. “I’m ready,” and he disappeared into his nest, shutting the door behind him. That was when my feeling of unease gave way to one of pure terror. Purple Gray’s whole nest began to hum, like the speakerspell and the red-fire devices within it, but louder. Suddenly it rose into the air and hung there at twice the height of a man. It began to glow with a color we had never seen before. The plants and the trees shone like garish hallucinations.
I thought Shoogar would fall off his bicycle from astonishment. I was having trouble with my own hands and feet. Even when you are not trembling all over, a bicycle is hard enough to control.
The ride back to the village was a nightmare. Shoogar was so unnerved, he forgot to chant any of his protective
It didn’t help matters that every time I looked up, another moon had set, plunging us ever closer to the time of total darkness. One of us was moaning, but I wasn’t sure whether it was Shoogar or me.
The bicycles clattered roughly down the mountain path, and I was so concerned about getting safely back to my nest that I did not even think to urge Shoogar to be careful with my other machine. The way he kept looking back over his shoulder I was sure he would hit something and split a wheel. Fortunately, he did not; I did not know if I would even have stopped to help him. Not with that bright black egg chasing us, always keeping perfectly and terrifyingly up-right.
Somehow we made it down to the grasslands. Several of the women saw us coming — they were out in the fields gathering the night fungi — but when they saw that huge glowing nest looming along behind us, they turned and ran for the safety of the village. Shoogar and I did not even think to park our bicycles on the hill, but rode them right down into the settlement. (Well, the women would have to clean the mud from the wheels later.)
We reached the village none too soon. The last of the moons was just settling in the west. We paused, out of breath, in the center clearing. The great black nest floated ominously above us, lighting up the whole village with its odd-colored aura. The great trees and the gourd-shaped nests hanging from their mighty branches took on strange and terrifying colors.
From out of the air the magician’s voice boomed louder than any natural voice, “… no wonder I didn’t see it
