and healthy on the plains. Now water, that's scarce and all our wars rise from that. But water is nothing compared to air. Can you imagine living in a place where you had to fight for the very air to sustain you?'
No one answered. The king's anger made speech unwise.
'They can also see! Oh, by the gods can they see! Up in that eagle's nest they called Kyrania, they could see the most amazing horizons. Horizons so distant they confounded me. Me, a simple man of the plains where all is flat and you drown in the air and you can't imagine what it really is to see. All the way around you-all the time. That's what separates Kyranians from ordinary mortals. The power to see.
'That's another thing we must remember. Safar is the greatest Kyranian of them all, for he can see the future. And sometimes I think he can imagine more. If there is a place that lies beyond the future, Safar can see it.
'But he has to kill me first.' The king slammed his throne over, shattering the wood against ground.
He turned to Fari, who was frightened, no longer so desirous of the king's attention.
'Tell me, Lord Fari,' he said, his tone fearfully close to the one the demon had used addressing the heads, 'And tell me true. Does Safar have to kill me to get to Hadin? Isn't that what your heads were telling us?'
Fari called on all his skills to slip to a middle course. He shrugged.
'Who can say, Your Majesty?' he said in his most oily voice. 'Our casting was not plain on that point.'
The king merely nodded, so Fari braved thinner ice. 'We should be practical about this, Your Majesty,'
he said. 'Hadin is so far away it was known as World's End by the ancients. Surely, this place is out of anyone's reach.
'Far-seeing though he may be, I think it would be wiser to surmise that Lord Timura's goal is more reasonable. Forget about World's End. Think of Esmir, only. It would be far seeing enough of Lord Timura to conclude that his answer was in Caluz. In the center of the Black Lands where a magical machine has gone wild.
'He must overcome the devil machine, the desolate land, the low spirits of his people-everything-to consult with the Oracle of Hadin. And there he must pray that he can find a means to kill the most powerful king in history.'
He snorted. 'Come, now, Your Majesty! That is seeing very far, beyond not only the future, but hope itself. And as for the business with the air, Highness, I think he's breathing something very thin indeed to conjure up such an impossible task.'
'Here, here,' Luka said, making the king smile and gaining back a bit of grace.
'Lord Fari speaks wisely, Majesty,' Kalasariz said, tipping a wink at the old demon that meant, 'We
Although no plan had been set, the unholy three, as Iraj had come to think of his brothers, acted as if victory had already been won. They called for food and drink and music and dancers to celebrate. Iraj tilted his scarred lip, making them believe he was fooled by their actions.
Oh, but he was cold, so cold. Damnation he could see it clear. Like Safar could see distant horizons.
Iraj was no fool-even though he was a king, and kings, it is said, make the grandest fools of all. He knew what was going on. His brothers of the spell conspired against one another and they all conspired, separately and together in various alliances, against him. Sheesan had warned him about that.
He felt a pang, thinking of that strange, beauteous witch. How could she have borne appearing like such a crone, when she had been a woman of such beauty and wonder. She had her own designs, of course-some of which she'd even admitted. But that hadn't bothered him. Iraj had learned early that no one addresses royalty without base motives. Even Safar, pure, humble, 'I'm only a potter's son,' Safar, had something he wanted when he joined Iraj in his mission. He wanted Iraj's power. Safar was jealous because Iraj Protarus was favored by the gods! Destined at birth to be king of kings.
But what was it Safar claimed he wanted? Oh, yes-to save the world. What a
Iraj scraped at his chair with a heavy ring, smiling at his false brothers as they drank and made merry jests about the human and demon maids who danced for their pleasure. They pretended to chatter happily about their king, their wise, strong king, and how they would stretch every tendon in his effort.
Talking about this plan of attack and that.
Fari was saying something about gathering all his wizards to cast a spell to protect them all from the wild magic of the Black Lands. Luka was laying plans to create the greatest mounted shock force in history.
As if the Kyranians were the half million demons Iraj once defeated to gain his crown, instead of a handful of hastily trained peasants. And Kalasariz-Damnation! Safar warned me about him, I'd better be careful-Kalasariz was slipping up to Fari, saying this and that and glancing in Luka's direction. What Iraj would have to watch for was when Kalasariz looked in his direction.
In some ways Luka and Fari were easier to understand, he thought. They were demons. Conspiracy came easily to demons. But Kalasariz-oh, be careful of Kalasariz-was of a different cut. The least of which was that he was human. And humans, Iraj thought, were superior to demons in hatching a conspiracy.
I should know, he thought. I am the result of conspiracy-from whom my father would bed on a royal night, to my mother's scheming against his harem. His mother had been a gentle sort, loathe to use poison. But when it came to her son and dreams of being mother of a clan leader, her hand was steady when she poured.
Iraj's mother had taught him about secrets. Keep your own counsel, she'd said, no matter who tells you what is closest to their heart. They are lying. Know this, son, and build greater lies and you will be safe.
Iraj had such a secret. He'd guarded that secret more closely than even his love for his mother. If she were here he'd lie to her face and know she'd be proud of him.
His secret was that thanks to the witch who desired to be his queen, he had the means to break free of the loathsome bond he'd made with these fiends. He ached for the moment when he could cast the spell she'd taught him and destroy them.
But first he'd have to catch Safar. Oh, yes, I must not forget-and his scarred lip twitched-the child, Palimak. Before she died the witch said the child wasn't really necessary. Although the spell would be more powerful if Iraj had them both-like the heads on Fari's stake.
Then I can be free, Iraj thought. Free!
A winsome demon maid pranced in front of him. She was half again his size and of a form he'd only killed before, not caressed. But he suddenly found himself desirous of her and so he motioned and she came to him, pressing strange but somehow familiar parts against him.
He plunged into her embrace, thinking, I wonder what Safar is doing now?
I wonder how he finds Caluz?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Leiria and Dario waved their wine cups and chorused-'Long live Queen Hantilia!'
Then Leiria whacked Safar on the shoulder, saying, 'What do you think of Queenie, here?' She made curving motions with her hands, then winked. 'Nice package, don't you think?'
Dario whacked his other shoulder, then leaned in, sloshing wine into his boots. 'She likes you, me lord,'
he stage whispered. He hiccuped, covered his mouth, then said. 'Couldn't help but-hiccup! — notice.'
Safar smiled, then turned to Queen Hantilia. 'Are they drunk or in your spell?' he asked.
'A little of both,' the queen answered. She flicked up two talons-rather daintily, Safar thought, considering each was a curved ruby dagger six inches long. 'First, you'll have to admit that the wine
She toasted Safar and drank. He eyed his own glass, cast a spell to search for ill intent, found none, and so he shrugged and drained his glass. It was delicious, as if all the fruits of the Valley of the Clouds had been turned into the rarest of wines.
'Ambrosia!' he sighed. He hooked the jug onto the table, asking, 'Shall we have a little more?' She nodded,
