He was still troubled by the dream that had awakened him. It was no ordinary nightmare. It was so strong an experience he wondered if it might actually be a vision. But there was no magical scent lingering in the nightmare's aftermath, so he was fooled for a time, thinking that maybe it really was only a dream.
So when Safar looked through the window he barely saw all the beauty that so beguiled the rare outsider who visited Kyrania. Instead he focused on all the troubles the beauty hid.
Three poor harvests in a row, followed by harsh winters, had sorely tested the people of Kyrania. They had lived in ease for so many generations they were ill prepared for the hard times that had descended on the world in recent years.
The income from the great caravans that had once crossed the Gods' Divide from Caspan to Walaria and back again each year had ceased. Kyrania suffered from this. Yet once again in the age-old Kyranian story, Safar's people didn't suffer nearly as much as everyone else.
In the outside world-the world beyond the foothills of the Gods' Divide-all was chaos.
Protarus' shattered empire had turned Esmir into a confusion of petty kingdoms, so weak they couldn't keep the bandits off their own roads, so unstable that any bold warrior prince with an army at his back could easily step into the gap left by the mighty Iraj. Kyrania was cut off from the rest of Esmir, so Safar couldn't be certain that such a prince hadn't risen.
In the past, news would have come through the great merchant princes who knew the route over the mountains to Kyrania. But they were either dead, or huddled at home praying the chaos would soon end.
Safar thought it unlikely their prayers would be answered anytime soon. If at all.
He looked north and saw the Demon Moon-a silver comet trailing in its wake-rising over a mountain peak. As long as that moon ruled the heavens, he thought, plague and war and hunger would ravage the land. From his studies he knew things were likely to get worse, not better. Someday the Demon Moon might reign over lifeless seas and plains and mountains. The world, Safar believed, was slowly poisoning itself-shedding humans and demons and animals and plants as if they were so many parasites, like lice or ticks or aphids.
Once Safar had thought he might find the answer-the means to end the abysmal reign of the Demon Moon. It had been this search that had brought him to Protarus' court and all the terrible things which followed. Now, after more than six years of study and magical experiment, Safar was starting to wonder if he had been a fool from the very beginning. And that there was no answer to the riddle.
That damned old demon, Lord Asper, claimed the gods were asleep in the heavens and didn't care a whit about the fate of human or demonkind.
Safar eyed the brandy jug, thinking, if Asper were right, why should he, Safar Timura, care?
He picked the jug up, thinking, why should
He started to pour himself one more drink, thinking, to the Hells with them all! If that's what the gods want, who am I to say nay?
Then he heard a small voice in the other room:
'You show him!'
Another voice protested.
'No, no, you show him!'
'He'll get mad.'
'No he won't.'
'Yes, he will.'
'All right, all right. I'll do it.'
Listening, Safar smiled, thinking-There's your reason, my friend!
He heard his son call, 'Come here, father! Come and see quick!'
Safar laughed and went into Palimak's room. He entered cautiously, not knowing what he'd find.
The smell hit him first.
It was like something had died, then risen from the dead just short of complete mortification. It was more redolent than flesh. It was more like … Then smell shock became vision shock and Safar jumped back as a huge creature lumbered toward him.
'Surprise!' Palimak shouted.
The creature confronting him was buttery yellow with holes running through it so huge you could see to the other side. One of those holes opened-Safar imagined it might be a mouth-and then he knew he was right when the creature spoke:
'Cheese!' it said in a deep bass voice. Or at least that's what Safar thought it said. And then he was sure because it spoke again, saying: 'Cheese!'
It waved clumsy arms at him, like an clockwork toy from a child prince's chest of pleasures.
Safar buried a smile, then made a motion and the creature froze in place.
Palimak clapped his hands, chortling, 'What do you think, father? Isn't it good?'
He was a handsome boy, not quite eight, with curly brown hair and a slender body with long legs and arms splayed across the bed. He had a long elfish face, with rosy cheeks and skin so fine it was almost translucent. At the moment his normally hazel eyes were huge and golden-dancing with magical fire.
'Well? Say it!'
Safar put on a solemn face and examined the creature, trying not to laugh, which was difficult because behind Palimak was a small, green creature, doing its best to keep out of sight. It was an elegant little figure-about three hands high-dressed in fashionable tights, tunic, and feathered hat. It had the body of a man, but the face and talons of a demon. The creature was Gundara, Safar's Favorite. Gundara knew he was in a great deal of trouble with his master, ducking behind the boy, teeth chattering like a monkey's and giving him away.
Safar ignored Gundara for the moment and observed his son's creation. It wasn't yellow all over as he'd first thought. It also had brown, loaflike arms and legs that bore neither hands or feet. And it was indeed, shaped like a man-a stick figure with a big ball for a body and a smaller ball stacked upon that for a head.
Safar couldn't quite tell what the creature was made of. He sniffed the air. 'What's that?' he asked.
'Guess!' Palimak demanded.
Safar looked past the boy to glare at Gundara. 'Come out here,' he said.
Gundara grumbled and hopped out onto the bed. 'It wasn't my fault, Master!' he said. Suddenly his head swiveled around, little eyes fixed on a small stone turtle sitting next to Palimak.
The turtle had the mark of Hadin painted on its back: a green island, outlined in blue, and on that island was a red mountain with a monster's face spewing flames from its mouth.
Gundara's long delicate demon's tongue flickered out, and he said, 'You just shut up, Gundaree. You hear me! Shut up!'
'That's not nice,' the boy admonished Gundara. 'You shouldn't say shut up!'
Gundara was hurt. 'You used to say it all the time, Little Master,' he said. ''Shut up,' were the very first words you spoke. Why, I remember when-'
'Never mind that!' Safar broke in. He pointed at the moldy, man-high thing. 'What's this?' he asked Gundara.
Gundara hung his head. 'Cheese, master,' he muttered. 'Just like it said.' And he lowered his voice to match the creature's, intoning, 'Cheese!''
Despite himself, Safar laughed. For just as Gundara said, the magical creature Palimak had created really was made entirely of cheese-other than the legs and arms, which he now realized were made of bread.
'It's breakfast, father!' Palimak piped. 'See. I made you breakfast!' He wrinkled his nose. 'Although, maybe it doesn't smell too good.'
'I told him not to use the stuff under his bed, master,' Gundara said. 'But he wouldn't listen. I said, 'that's somebody's old snack … some dirty little thing's old snack. Some dirty little thing who sneaked under the bed to eat.' Gundara glared at the stone turtle. 'I won't mention any names, but we all know who I mean.'
Palimak clapped his hands. 'Gundaree!' he shouted. He grinned at Safar. 'Gundaree likes eating under the bed, father,' he said. 'And he likes his cheese, really, really old.' The boy pinched his nostrils to show just how old Gundaree preferred his cheese to be.
