Safar twirled the burning stick of paper, still smiling, friendly, open, as if this were the most normal of meetings.
'Tell them, Iraj,' he said, quite mild. 'Tell them it's not as good for them as they think.'
Iraj recovered. He smiled back, just as friendly. Just as open. It surprised him that it took so little effort.
'I already did, Safar,' he said, with a small laugh. He tapped his head. 'But sometimes they have trouble remembering the things I say.'
'Oh, they listen,' Safar said, returning Iraj's laugh. 'We all listen! When the king speaks whole armies of clerks sift and sort his words so their masters can study them for their true meaning.'
Iraj chuckled. 'You mean they listen but they hear only what they want to hear.'
Safar shrugged. 'If had I put it that plainly,' he said, 'you never would have made me Grand Wazier.
More words equals greater wisdom-that's what the priests taught me in Walaria.'
Iraj snorted. 'Priests! You know what I think of priests!' Another smile-reminiscing. 'But there was one priest … old Gubadan.'
Safar nodded, remembering the kindly schoolmaster who had overseen the unruly young people of Kyrania. Iraj and Safar had been the most mischievous of the lot, combining forces to bedevil him.
'What a windbag!' Iraj laughed. 'But I liked him.' He shrugged. 'He was my friend.'
'A commodity of great value,' Safar said. 'Even for a king.' He gestured at Fari and the others.
'Especially for a king.'
Safar paused, eyes going back to Iraj's spell brothers. 'Forgive me for not acknowledging you before, my lords,' he said.
Then he addressed each one in turn, saying, 'Greetings to you, Prince Luka,' bowing slightly, waving the burning stick of paper, '…and you, Lord Fari,' another bow, another wave of the stick, '…and, of course you, my dear, dear, Lord Kalasariz!'
He came up, spell nearly completed, turning to face Iraj.
'It seems that when it comes to friendship, Iraj,' he said, 'you have more reason than most to consider that homily.'
One more bow, one more wave of the smoldering paper stick, and the spell was done. Safar gave himself a mental kick for thinking that. It wasn't done! This was only the end of the first act. He was only in the middle, the great sagging center of the tightrope. Now for the rest. He fixed his mind on his goal and prepared to move on.
Fari spoke up: 'That was a very clever little spell, Lord Timura,' he said. 'It took me more time than my good reputation as a wizard can bear to unravel it. I assure you, however, that in the end, age bested wisdom. Look for yourself and I think you'll agree. Your spell has been effectively terminated.'
Safar obediently concentrated, testing the magical atmospheres with his senses, confirming what he already knew, which was that Fari had fallen for Safar's spell-within-a-spell trick.
Calling on his most subtle acting abilities, Safar blinked with dismay-sinking the hook.
Another blink, then he forced a smile, making it overly wide and bold in a pretended attempt at recovery.
Barely controlling a trembling voice, he said, 'We shall see, my lord, we shall see,' as if he were supporting a bluff doomed at the first call.
Iraj observed all this, confidence growing by the minute. The game was going as he wanted, never mind Safar's spell, which he guessed was still in place regardless of what Fari had said.
He didn't need magic to sniff out his friend. The moment he saw Safar appear on the hill he knew his intention.
And when he heard his voice ring out, 'This way, Iraj!' he knew it was more than a challenge. It was an invitation. An invitation that fit perfectly into Iraj's plans.
So he said, 'Why don't we end this pretense, Safar? We've been friends-and enemies-much too long to be dishonest with one another. I am here for one reason, there is no other. And that reason is-'
'To ask my help?' Safar said, cutting him off.
He'd meant to be sarcastic, but when he saw Iraj's reaction he was surprised how close he'd come to the mark. He quick-sniffed the magical array against him. Double checked his defenses. Then he sensed it! A threat from Iraj he hadn't noticed before. He glanced at Iraj's spell brothers, noticing their growing awareness that something was amiss. And it wasn't Safar. It was-
'Listen to me, Iraj,' he hissed, moving quickly, swiftly rearranging his plans. 'You think I'm here to kill you. I won't deny it. But the main reason is to stop that machine!' He jerked his chin, indicating the stone temple. 'Help me with it,' he said. 'Help me if you want to be free! That's what you want, isn't it? To be free?'
Iraj recoiled, shocked that Safar had guessed his secret. Shocked even more at the pitying look on Safar's face and the humiliating offer of rescue. So shocked he didn't notice Fari sniff the air, then stiffen in alarm.
Iraj shouted: 'To the Hells with you, Safar Timura. I can free myself!'
All his pent up fury of emotions exploded and Protarus drew back to cast the spell.
But before he could act he heard Fari shout: 'Betrayal, brothers!'
Then Luka: 'Kill the king!'
And Kalasariz, crying 'Kill them both!'
And then three great wolves rose up to ravage Iraj, so furious and strong in their combined wrath they caught him by surprise. His mind had been fixed on Safar, not the others, and now he saw the error.
Iraj had the sudden vision of the child he'd killed, the child in the dream who was only a boy, too young to be in the mountains. The child who was first Tio, then Safar, and he'd killed them over and over again until only one face was left.
His own!
And Iraj suddenly understood. Awareness struck like a thundering dawn over Kyrania. Despair instantly followed and he thought, This is it … I'm too late … I'm a fool from beginning to end…
Then the wolves rushed in and Iraj cast the spell, shouting: 'Safar! Safar!'
Safar gathered in Iraj's spell. He was surprised at the strength of it. But he was even more surprised at the spell's suddenly changed intent. Iraj's cry of 'Safar! Safar!' echoed in his head, resounding like temple bells. 'Safar! Safar!' A shout of contrition.
Safar slammed the door to a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Working quickly, very quickly, he absorbed the power of the spell. Never mind Iraj. Never mind what was happening to him now.
Never mind repentance, never mind forgiveness, never mind, never mind…
…Safar heard the wolves coming for him, their howls filling his ears, shriveling his heart. Coming so fast he realized he was taking too long and he fumbled at the complexity of the spell. Trying to put it together, knowing he was too late, too late, and he was only a boy, too young to be in the mountains and this was the end of him.
And once more he heard Iraj cry, 'Safar!'
Suddenly he knew the answer.
Prayed he knew the answer.
He flung the paper into the air, shouting, '
And the world became a white hot explosion.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Coralean paced the docks, rumbling, 'We must go, my friends! Hurry, hurry!'
And Leiria shouted, 'By the gods, Coralean, you'll wait! Or I'll cut out your greedy innards to feed the fish.'
Palimak listened to them argue, feeling cold and apart from the scene. He already knew the answer, but was too frightened to voice it. He turned away, looking out over the Caspan harbor where the hired ships were sagging under the weight of all the Kyranians and their goods. The airship hovered over the refugee fleet, engines fired up and ready to go.
