you answered as you did,' he said, 'for any other would have meant that your quest was for naught.'
Alodar raised his eyebrows with surprise but Handar continued. 'It would be my doom if I summoned Balthazar to satisfy my every whim. Each time we contest, he learns more of my will, of my weaknesses and petty failings, my irritations, desires, and fears. If I persisted one time too many, it is he who would be the master and I the slave. It well may be that I must call upon him again before the struggle is finished, but it will be only when he is desperately needed and not before. Nor will I appear before this queen of yours juggling imps in my hands like some jester. I am a wizard and know better than to dissipate foolishly the power of my craft. You need not fear for the effect of my art on the heart of this lady. It was for a much graver reason that I was laid to rest.'
Handar collapsed his palms together and brought his thumbs up to his chin. 'You mention building an army,' he said, 'and using wizardry to aid in persuasion. I think that it would be a good enough first test. Listen well and I will instruct you on the workings of my craft.'
'You offer to teach me how to deal with djinns such as Balthazar?' Alodar asked.
'One as mighty as he will come later,' Handar said. 'For the moment, summoning a sprite or two should suffice to build your confidence and probably impress this queen as well.'
'But why?' Alodar asked. 'You pile one mystery on top of another.'
'Why?' Handar echoed, stiffening into an erect posture. 'It is not for a wizard to answer why. He does as he chooses, as he wills things to be. I elect to tell you of my craft now. More will come when I judge you worthy to receive it.'
Alodar shrugged and settled into a comfortable position. Handar waited several moments more in silence and then rose.
'What you saw transpire in this clearing tonight was an exercise in one of the fundamental laws of wizardry,' he said. 'The law of ubiquity. Or stated in simple terms, 'fire permeates all.' It is by fire and fire alone that a bridge or gateway is formed between the demon world and ours. It is through fire that they come to us. The simple blaze of a fallen log is enough to furnish passage for the most feeble among them, such as tiny imps and will-o'-the- wisps. Their presence is harmless, even though an annoyance and surrounded by much folklore and baseless superstition. Any man with a whit of courage can bend them to his will and make them behave. The powerful demons require more exotic means of access. Fire of a natural kind will not do. Exotic plants, woods, and even rarer substances such as rock must burn to make the conditions right.'
'Then what I surmised was true,' Alodar said. 'The less powerful opened the way for the greater djinns to pass through.'
'Yes,' Handar agreed. 'But if it were as simple as that, then long ago this world would have been overrun with demonkind. There would not be wizards enough to wrestle with all that might appear. But in the scheme of things, although flame is necessary, it is not sufficient. Except for an irritating imp or two, none of the demons have free access, even though a path may be open. The flame makes a channel where there was none before, but all resistance is not overcome. The greater the demon's power, the greater in proportion is the barrier which impedes him. A sprite, devil or djinn of any strength must make contact with a human mind and be pulled across the friction that remains. Indeed, all of the so-called craft of wizardry is concerned with just one thing, the establishing of a link between the two worlds, of making the contact of minds that allows the demon to come forth. Once the connection has been made, the resistance vanishes and what happens next is governed by the second law, the law of dichotomy.'
'But there were no wizards pulling the sprites and djinns through,' Alodar objected. 'Once the flame was established, they came of their own will.'
'Of that I will speak later,' Handar said. 'But first the law of dichotomy, or simply stated, 'dominance or submission.' There is no middle ground. Once the demon has been called forth, then who controls whom is determined solely by a contest of wills. If the wizard is strong enough, he will dominate and the demon, at least for the particular conjuring, will be his to command. If the man falters and the demon wrests mastery from him, then he becomes the pawn of the other world, a warlock, a mere toy to strut and twist about as it suits their eerie amusement.'
Handar suddenly raised his palms and stopped. 'And that is all there is to the craft,' he said.
'No words of power, formulas, rituals or chants handed down from master to pupil?' Alodar asked.
'Only which flames are appropriate for which demon,' Handar replied. 'And that is just so that the foolish do not attempt beyond what they are capable. But such knowledge is peripheral to mastery of the craft. The essence is the will to resist, to remain free, to preserve one's spirit. And this central core of wizardry cannot be taught, only experienced.'
'But the power I saw your creature unleash,' Alodar said. 'With such as he to aid you, no kingdom could resist.'
'It is as I have said,' Handar replied. 'The more powerful the demon, the stronger is his will and the greater risk there is of submission rather than domination. And there is somehow a flaw in those who seek skill in wizardry and perhaps in most men as well. A flaw that leads us to temptation almost without fail. As we practice our art and summon again and again the lesser demons which we can easily bend to our will, we grow tired of their supplications, their flattery, their bemoaning of the small tasks that are placed upon them. We reach out and try to bring forth a devil of more power, to test our strength against him and to measure our accomplishments against our peers who strive as well. And as the sagas show, one by one, the daring craftsmen of wizardry eventually attempt what is beyond their reach and pass from free men to be the tools of those whom they wished to control. To be a wizard is no casual undertaking, though the preparation for it is small. And to be a great one requires character as strong as any hero in the sagas, a will unbending to the temptations that demonkind will offer along the way.'
'And you, Handar?' Alodar asked.
'If I were strong enough, if wizardry alone were great enough, then there would have been no need for my long sleep of waiting for someone to come.'
Alodar trudged up the pass in silence, the stiffness of his wounds almost completely gone. Except for more detail on how to probe through the flame, Handar stubbornly chose to say no more about his background or any of the other puzzling questions. Most of the morning had passed while Alodar gave an account of his adventures starting with the siege of Iron Fist over a year ago. All along the trail back to the meadow, the wizard's only comments had been an occasional grunt or introspective smile.
Alodar looked down from the pass and saw that little had changed since his departure the day before. The goatskin huts of Grak's tribesmen still clustered near the base of the mountain. Further out in the grasses, the collection of nomads who were pledged to Vendora's banner huddled around a scattering of small fires, preparing a midday meal. Between the two camps, one isolated group stood apart from all the rest. Alodar squinted at a pole thrust into the ground there and saw a crude banner with the colors of the queen.
'They still parley,' Alodar said over his shoulder as Handar climbed the last few paces to his side. Handar nodded wordlessly and started down the slope. In a quarter of an hour they walked into the small camp.
Alodar could tell as he looked into the dozen or so faces staring his way that conversation had stopped several minutes before their final approach. Grak, other chieftains, the suitors, Grengor, and Aeriel sat in an informal circle around a single fire. Alodar sought the face of the queen and shouted his greeting. 'I bring powerful resources and fresh hope for the fair lady. The wizard Handar, and great are the demons at his command.'
A buzz of conversation started around the group. Grak conferred with two of his nomads sitting nearby and the other suitors exchanged glances among themselves. 'You return at a most propitious time, master,' Grengor said. 'Three of Grak's sub-chieftains have experienced enough of Basil's show of gems and Feston's words of plunder to want to join our cause. If you can aid in convincing the fourth, the one with the long unruly mane, then I am sure that chieftain will follow.'
'We talk in terms of carats of ruby and ounces of soft gold,' Basil said. 'A tale from these highlands, even a wizard's, carries no weight compared to these. Return your hermit to wherever you found him and let his imps scavenge his existence as before.'
Handar turned to face Basil. His eyes sparked and the muscles in his face hardened. His stare bored into the apothecary. Basil hesitated for a moment. Before he could speak again, Handar looked away and scanned the rest of the group.
'I am a true wizard,' he announced slowly, 'not some carnival attraction. A wizard from the time of the sagas, when even kings would walk behind. And I have heard of Bandor's possession, of the sprites deep within the
