more exotic wares. Quickly, before Melizar completes the relocking!'
The magician dropped the tambourine and reached deep into another crate. He brought forth a collection of silken handkerchiefs and an empty tube into which he proceeded to stuff the squares, one by one. The alchemists broke the bottle of brewing chemicals, letting its purple stain soak into the ground. They began picking apart delicately preserved spider webs and pressing each of the strands onto some sticky paper that unwound from a bulky roll nearby.
The laws lurched again, heading in a new direction unlike the one before. Jemidon saw Melizar fidget with his cube, apparently puzzled by what his adversary was trying to do.
'Now again, the knots and mixing chemicals,' Jemidon said. 'Only this time, twice the activity of before.'
The magician grabbed two tambourines, maneuvering one deftly in each hand. The alchemists scooped powder from the sack into a waiting row of vials. The laws spun, heading back in the direction they had been traveling, but with a speed twice what it was before.
'And again the silks and spider webs,' Jemidon said. 'More intensity. You must make it more.'
The masters responded with precision. Like puppets with two sets of strings, they alternated between the rituals and formulas, sending the laws first one way and then the other, soaring past the original node with ever- increasing speed. And with each pass, the tug of Melizar's attempt to relock fed more energy into the system. The amplitudes of the oscillations became greater and greater.
Upward rushed Melizar's soldiers. Wider became the undulations. Jemidon felt the fabric of existence overshoot the next node of the lattice in one direction and then roar past two more as it came tearing back. He sensed Melizar exerting his maximum power to grab at the laws as they swung past, but the effort was not enough. The momentum could not be checked. With one final filling of the vials, the laws plowed through the lattice, past all the nodes that were recorded, into a region that Melizar had not explored before.
Jemidon saw the imp lights wink out, one by one, from around Melizar's hood. He turned to see that the arching djinn stood on the hillcrest no more.
'What have you done?' Melizar strained his voice above the trample of the onrushing men-at-arms. 'The laws, the laws, they are new and strange. No one knows what their manipulations might be.'
'It is as I planned,' Jemidon shouted back. 'Now the three who serve you will have no advantage over mine. We are equal in the crafts that we can comand.'
For a moment Melizar was silent. With twitching spasms, he ran a hand over his cube. Impulsively he knelt, but then immediately stood again when there was no buzz of imps. He looked at his men-at-arms closing the distance to the crest and laughed.
'Yes, equal,' he said, 'equal for the moment. Soon the balance of manipulants will be three to none.'
Jemidon did not reply. He turned back to look at the puzzled masters. 'Vinegar and oil of vitrol, whatever you can find. Do not bother about the alchemy. Toss everything you can.'
The masters hesitated and frowned. Jemidon ran into their midst and pointed to two flasks at random. One of the alchemists nodded. He mixed the contents and then hurled the containers at the men-at-arms. The first shattered harmlessly off an upraised shield, but the second hit the ground and brewed a minute longer before exploding into knifelets of glass. Two men yelled in surprise and tumbled to their knees with dozens of tiny cuts oozing bfood.
The alchemists waved for the magician to join them. With inspired abandon, they concocted the remaining ingredients of the tent. Some became simple missiles that clattered off blade and mail; others, deadly grenades that cut into flesh. A bottle of oil, splattered against the middle of the advancing men, with a flaming torch thrown after, sent an explosion of fire along the line. One by one, the remaining soldiers went down, until only two were left.
Jemidon looped behind the masters. He tightened his grip on the changer. The outcome had to be exactly right for his plan to succeed. He looked among the tumbled crates for some more of the ingredients that had produced the smokiest reaction. Just as the warriors rushed upon the masters, he threw the chemicals into their midst.
One alchemist went down from the slash of a blade, but the other circled behind and felled the man-at-arms with a blow to the head. The smoke billowed from the mixing brew, dimming what anyone could see. Jemidon rushed into the opaqueness and aimed a swift kick where the soldier's groin should be. He heard a gasp of pain and then a dull thud as another of the alchemist's blows struck home.
Jemidon backed out of the smolder and saw the masters staggering after. He grabbed one by the collar of his robe and banged his head into the forehead of the other. Like sleeping Skyskirr, they slumped to the ground.
Jemidon took another step backward and held his breath, waiting for the reaction to run its course and the fumes to clear. When they had dissipated enough for him to see Melizar down the slope, he stepped slowly forward, shoulders slumped and with a dragging step.
For a moment, the metamagician did not react. He stood frozen, looking at Jemidon up the length of the slope. Then the pilot threw back his head and his laugh rang across the hillside, the loudest that Jemidon had ever heard.
'You did give me pause,' the metamagician shouted. 'A closer contest than I would have thought. But in the end, the result is the same. Your manipulants fail and you have no more resources, while I still have three in this universe and three more guiding the storms in the 'hedron beyond. It will take some time to probe and find where you have spun the laws, but you are powerless to stop my search. Eventually I will restore things to the way they were. You may as well come forward now and hand me your key as token of surrender. All you can do is wait and watch the enveloping of your fate.'
Jemidon continued his cautious motion forward. He scanned down the hillside at the remains of the battle still in progress, but saw that Melizar took no notice. The metamagician had not moved. He waited with arms crossed, chuckling with his soft laughter.
Slowly Jemidon walked down the slope, moving with the gait of a man going to the gallows. With each step, he tightened his grip on the changer, holding it close to his chest, not wanting to give Melizar any reason to do other than stand and wait.
'Finally you caused a significant perturbation,' Melizar said when Jemidon halted about ten feet away. 'But it is a perturbation nonetheless. It still ends according to my plan.'
'And perhaps according to mine as well,' Jemidon said softly. 'You are the keystone about which all else hangs. If you are felled, I can free the other pilots from the cubes that have now stopped contracting. Together, we can navigate to laws that will aid both our causes, coerce your manipulants to our bidding, reestablish the portal, and rescue Ponzar and the others on his lithon. And with no demons to oppose him, the archmage can summon enough devils of his own to escape from the battlefield. Without a leader, the passion of the rebels will dissipate into brawls for plunder. There will be no message across the sea to fan other rebellions. It will take some time, but order can be restored.'
'You speak like a villain from one of your sagas,' Melizar said, 'telling all of his plan before he is thwarted. But as I have noted, there is a difference between your design and mine, I am the one who has succeeded, the one who has brought his to full fruition. I still possess manipulants. I still have a basis of power, where you have none.'
'There is more to my plan,' Jemidon said. 'It hinges on differences just as you speak. Differences indeed between you and me. Differences besides your greater experience, your well-thought-out plot, your strength that gives you the title of first pilot.
'Your whole existence has been one of metamagic,' Jemidon continued, 'one of living each day with the three metalaws, steeped with the reality of the Postulate of Invariance, the Axiom of Least Contradiction, and the Verity of Exclusion. But for me, it was different. I did not know of their existence. I struggled instead to master the manipulations, to work the crafts for myself, to mold my destiny with my own hands, rather than command the use of others.'
'This prattle is of no consequence. Give me the key.'
'I fully intend to,' Jemidon said. 'But first think of the meaning of the difference. To you, a metamagician without his manipulants is powerless. There is nothing he can do. You would let one approach within a few feet, confident that he must meekly wait until your base of power returns.'
Jemidon lifted the changer in his hand. 'But for me, the possibilities are not the same. You are without any crafts to command. For the next few moments, there are no rebels close enough to come to your aid. Think of it, Melizar. Our duel has just begun.'
