The Flying Sorcerers

“That’s true for your village.” I said, “because you are weavers. We are not. We are craftsmen — have you any bicycle makers?”

“Bicycles?”

“Ah ha, you do not. It is a vehicle with wheels which enables its rider to travel great distances in one day.”

“And I suppose you use scavenger pigs and dogs to pull it in the manner of the western barbarians?”

“Ah, you show your ignorance, Gortik. The bicycle requires no animals at all — it moves by magic alone.”

“By magic alone?” He was incredulous.

“Of course,” I said, not without some small tone of superiority. If these people did not know even of bicycles, they must be stupid indeed. “One sits astride it and chants and pedals — the harder one chants, the faster he goes. You must chant hard, of course, to get up a hill; but that stores so much magic in the machine that one need hardly chant at all on the way down.”

“I would like to see one of these fabulous devices.”

“Shoogar has one now — he has had it since his duel with Purple. It used to be mine, but I would not dare ask Shoogar for its return — it would be an insult. It is no matter. My sons can build others.”

“Could they build one for me?”

“Quite probably.”

“I would be the only one in my village with such a device, wouldn’t I?”

“You are the Speaker here,” I said. “If you felt that the magic of a bicycle was too dangerous for the rest of your people, your word would be law.”

His eyes narrowed shrewdly, “Do you think I could get away with it?”

I nodded reluctantly. It was obvious what Gortik wanted. Being the only owner of a bicycle would enhance his mana greatly. I did not want to do such a thing, nor did I want to limit the market for my son’s devices — but if it was the only thing which I could offer him in return for the right to stay, then I had no choice. He still had the right to demand we move on when the wading season ended. I sighed and nodded again.

He beamed. “Then it is settled, Lant. You and your village will give me a bicycle, in return for which I will allow you to demonstrate your supposedly very great housemaking skills by clearing and cleaning our migration ground for us.”

“Ah, Gortik, my friend,” I answered, “you are correct in your manner, but you have misstated the terms of the agreement. We are lending you a bicycle for your use. In return you are granting us your migration area for our use. As a sign of our goodwill we will offer to teach your people what skills they will need to survive the season of ungrowing.”

“Ah, Lant, my devoted friend, my lifelong companion, you are the one who misstates the agreement. You have forgotten the bounty of ten sheep which you have offered me for a great feast in my honor.”

“Ah, Gortik, my faithful brother, my generous colleague, I have not forgotten them — indeed, I have not thought of them at all. Such a feast is an honor intended only for those Gods who have wrought mighty miracles.”

“Lant, you are the playmate of my spratling years. Have I not earned such an honor?”

“Ah, Gortik, we are more than playmates — we are sucklings at the same breast. I would deny you nothing. You need only ask and it is yours. I offer you, out of the boundless affection of my own heart, six sheep so that your people may start a flock of their own.”

“Ah, but Lant, my illustrious advisor — my people are not shepherds. The animals would die.”

“Gortik, Gortik, your wisdom is unsurpassed. Of course we cannot give the sheep to the untrained shepherd. You will grant us three young men to watch them. We will keep your sheep with ours and teach your men how to be shepherds. Shoogar will teach them the necessary spells.”

“I have not the men to spare.”

“Boys, then. Boys love sheep. Our shepherds will teach any three of your boys how to properly care for sheep and keep them from grazing too long in one spot.”

“Sheep have much magic in their bones, do they not? Is that where your magician gets so much of his power? From sheep?”

“I do not know the source of Shoogar’s power,” I said. “But you are right that sheep are powerful.”

Then what guarantee do we have that you will not use that power against us?”

“Your village is not without its strength. What guarantee do we have that you will not use your power against us?”

“You have your magician,” he said.

“And you have yours,” I countered.

“Yes, there is that,” he said.

There was silence for a moment.

“We must decide what they are going to do — before they decide for themselves,” I said. “A feud between them would not augur well for either of our clans.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “It would tear the two villages apart.”

“And much of the surrounding countryside too.” I added.

He looked startled.

“I have already spoken to Shoogar,” I said quickly, “and I know that he is not planning to attack Purple — that is, not without sufficient provocation. I have convinced Shoogar that it is important enough for us to settle here for him to swear a truce with Purple. In return, of course, he — and all of us — would like some guarantees from Purple.”

“Well,” said Gortik, “I cannot speak for Purple. No one speaks for Purple but Purple. To tell the truth, I do not like the idea of having two hostile magicians in the same village — but just as much, I do not like the idea of having even one magician in this village — one particular magician, that is. There is little love between myself and Purple. Dorthi and I were good friends. Dorthi’s strength supported me as Speaker; but since Purple has replaced him, he has done nothing.”

“H’m,” I said thoughtfully, “is it not said that a land with two magicians will soon have only one.”

He nodded. “There is only so much magic in an area — enough for one magician, not for two. It is inevitable that one of them will die.”

“I know. Shoogar has thought long on that.”

“So have I. If we have our magicians swear a truce, it will be a very artificial situation. It cannot last long.”

I nodded. He was right, of course. “But perhaps it will at least buy us time until the oceans again recede.”

“Ah, but then what? You want a permanent village site. I want a permanent magician.”

“Purple is planning to leave you?”

“He has been talking that way ever since he first fell into our midst. At the moment he is forced by circumstance to stay — like you — but if that were not the case, there are many in this village who would be happy to speed him on his way.”

“Are you suggesting that you would like to see Purple re-moved?” I asked.

“Of course I wouldn’t suggest such a thing,” he replied. “A Speaker must never question his magician. But — if a duel were to occur between our two warlocks, I would not be disappointed if Purple lost”

“But you have said that you do not wish a duel.”

“Oh, yes — I did, didn’t I. To be quite honest, Lant, I would prefer to see him leave of his own free will — quietly, if possible — but by force, if necessary.”

“I see,” I said. And I did. Purple was not aiding Gortik as a magician should. Gortik wanted him gone. Even no magician at all might be better than a bad one. I could understand it. “Let me suggest this to you, Gortik: if there is some way that we can remove Purple from your village, we will do that for you.”

“And replace him with Shoogar?”

“Uh —” I asked cautiously, “Is that what you want?” I did not want to lose Shoogar to another village.