it. Safar's spirit self wanted to call you friend before it called you foe. It was young, but graceful rather than clumsy. It had known deathwas miserable for being the cause of itand was reluctant to come out into the light again. For a time Methydia was intimidated by Safar's magical self. She didn't fear it, but she did worry if she wasn't careful she'd injure it so badly all the kindness would vanish. As a villain, a black wizard, a fully mature Safar Timura would be a terrible gift to the world.
Attractive as Safar was, she'd held herself back for a long time. In fact, Methydia had all but decided it'd be best to deny herself an affair.
The incident at Kyshaat had ripped her from that mooring.
In her long life Methydia thought she'd encountered just about everything. She'd visited many realms, entertained many people. She'd dealt with danger and evil aplenty; but in her heart she believed good more than outweighed evil, there were more blessings than ill fortune and she'd made it her life's work to remind people of these qualities.
As a witch she was well aware the sorcerous landscape was riddled with magicians and entities whose sole purpose was to cause harm. She'd always managed to evade such things. To Methydia magic came from the earth itself. She believed she drew her powers directly from nature, which to her was a loving, grandmotherly presence.
The creature she encountered at Kyshaat had badly cracked that image. When it rose out of the ground it was as if the earth itself were attacking her. That nature had suddenly revealed its true self and it had a jackal's face. In that awful moment when the earth beast had towered over her she'd thought she'd lost both her life and her soul.
Safar had saved them both.
She'd fled into his arms for comfort and safety and sheer joy at being alive. For a week she hid there from all the terrors the creature had aroused. Yet they gnawed at the edges. Deep in the night, while the storms howled outside and Safar slept, Methydia let them come out one by one. Examining them in turn. In the end she concluded the beast at Kyshaat was the harbinger of doom. That it was only the first of many evils that lay ahead.
Her instincts told her only Safar could fight the dark tide.
As soon as she thought this she knew she'd lost him. It wasn't possible for Safar to remain with the circus. It would be a much happier life for him, but it was Safar's tragedy that all such happiness would be denied him. And one day it would be Methydia's sad duty to point him down the bleak road of his fate.
She said nothing of this to Safar. When she thought the time was right she gently quizzed him about further details of his past. Everything he said confirmed her view. He told her about the vision of Hadin and its destruction, his fears of future disasters, his search for knowledge in Walaria, his discovery of the demon Asper and how in the end the master wizard's works had been denied him. He showed her the stone turtle Nerisa had given him and she mourned with him the faint pulse of nearly dying life inside.
'I was a fool for even trying to find the answer, Safar said bitterly. What would it matter if I did? There's nothing a potter's boy from Kyrania could do about it.'
Then he swore he'd always love her, always stay with her and he'd never return to the dull, heavy existence of earthbound mortals who stared up at the sky in wonder as the Cloudship sailed overhead.
Methydia kept her silence. It would do him no good to tell him what she thought. But she had to be certain Safar was prepared for whatever was in store for him.
She determined that in the time remaining to them she'd teach him everything she knew about magical guile and peoples artifice. She'd give him all the love she had in heremotions she'd kept locked away to better arm herself against the world. She'd bolster his confidence, free him as best she could from his own self-imposed restraints.
And when the time came she'd steel herself and make him confront his destiny.
The storms continued with barely a day between each new blow. The winds drove them onwardacross the plains of Jaspar.
They saw much misery in the land the Cloudship passed over. Ruined villages, stripped fields where great armies had passed. Even in the heaviest rains they saw thousands of refugees slogging along the roads, making their way to the gods knew where. They saw the aftermath of fighting; huge muddy fields littered with corpses of men and animals.
The sight made them all moody. Only the most necessary words were exchanged. Safar was moodiest of all, staring out over the bleak landscape before them. Then one day they crossed a low mountain range. And when they broke through the clouds the skies were sunny, the air brisk.
They were floating over a large, peaceful valley. The valley floor was a patchwork of bright green orchards interspersed with blue creeks, gaily-painted villages, bordered by shaded gardens. All looked healthy and prosperous and there was no sign of the troubles they'd encountered before.
A fresh wind pushed the Cloudship forward. At the far edge of the valley was a small city with pearly walls and graceful buildings rising up from behind them.
Safar leaned out over the rails to get a closer look. The sight brought a smile to his face.
'What is this place? he asked.
'The city of Sampitay, Methydia said. We've never played there before. But I've heard good things about it. An entertainer's paradise, I'm told.'
Safar mused, dimly recalling Gubadan's geography lessons. Then he recognized the orchardswhite mulberry trees. Sampitay was well known for its fine silks and the royal yellow dye taken from the roots of the trees.
'Sampitay, Biner said. That's a lucky place. Now I'm sorry I cursed the gods so harshly for all that bad weather.'
Safar turned and looked back at the mountains. Big banks of clouds, driven by a far off storm, were scudding across the sky after them. It was about time, he thought, that the winds of fate took a gentler turn.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Safar knew there was something wrong before the first performance.
The crowds greeting them were enthusiastic enough, as were the soldiers who directed them to the field outside the city gates. The roustabouts set the circus up in record time and the seats for the first show were sold out before the ticket booth was in place.
The good citizens of Sampitay were so hungry for entertainment they lined up, begging to be relieved of the price of admission, while the Cloudship was still unloading. Methydia's troupe was forced to give a hasty first performance, cutting the encores short so an impatient second audience could be admitted.
No art was required to please them. They roared laughter at the slightest clown antic, gasped in terror at the merest slip of an acrobat, moaned in suspense at Methydia's and Safar's slightest magical gesture.
Oddly enough the troupe was discontented.
'I could fart and get a laugh, Biner complained.
'I could whistle through my fangs and they'd be thrilled, Elgy said.
'They're tho eathy I want to thpit, Arlain said. And the godth know what happenth when I thpit!'
Green as he was, Safar felt a wrongness in the overly-wild applause he received when he cast the first purple- colored smoke pellet that began his performance. He sensed an hysterical edge to the crowd's huzzahs.
During his mind reading act he announced a maid named Syntha was to be wed soon and her love would always be true. The young woman in question shrieked such joy at this newswhich Safar had received courtesy of a big-eared roustaboutthe entire audience was reduced to tears.
'What's wrong with them? he asked Methydia between performances.
Methydia smiled thinly. She seemed distracted, applying her makeup with a heavy hand. Are you so
