a small park with a dozen or more Caluzians-both human and demon. Some were taking the air alone, some in company, and there were several family groups with children or kits.
As soon as they saw the two Kyranians they all rushed over to bow and smile and murmur greetings.
Saying, 'How is the Lady Leiria this evening?' Or, 'Does the Young Lord Timura find himself well, we pray?' And 'May the blessings of Lady Felakia be with you!'
As they spoke they spontaneously handed the two little gifts, a bracelet or necklace for Leiria hastily stripped off by the owner, a small top or a ball for Palimak, willingly given by smiling children. Leiria and Palimak made polite replies and tried to fend off the gifts but it was no use, so they stuffed them in their pockets, thanking everyone and grinning until their jaws ached.
A moment later the Caluzians all chorused farewells and trooped off, pleasant laughter trailing in their wake.
Leiria looked about the empty park. 'They certainly left in a hurry,' she said. 'I feel like we brought something odorous to a party.'
Palimak snorted. 'They're just so nice they make me sick!' he said. 'But they never really want to talk to you. Or play with you. They just say, 'How are you, Young Lord Timura?' And 'May the gods be kind to you!' Things like that, but soon as you try to say something back they pretend they're busy, or going someplace in a hurry, and run away.'
'I thought I was the only one to notice that,' Leiria said. 'I went into the city the other day and you should have seen the fuss everyone made over me. Then they suddenly melted away and all of sudden the street was empty and people were closing their doors and shutters.
'The same thing happened when I went into a tavern to get a drink and some company. At first they were all my friends, buying me drinks and welcoming me to Caluz. Next thing I knew the tavern was empty and the innkeeper was making excuses about having to close up early.'
'What's wrong with them, Aunt Leiria?' Palimak asked.
'I don't know, my dear,' she answered. Then, thinking she might be neglecting her auntly duties, she tried to sound more kindly. 'Maybe they're all just very frightened and trying to put a brave face on things. The gods know they have a right to their fears. From what your father said they're under some curse and don't have much longer to live, unless he helps them.'
'Maybe…' Palimak said doubtfully. He thought a minute then said, 'What if they have to be really nice and happy all the time because that's the way the machine wants it? What if they don't have any choice?'
He waved at the idyllic scene around them, taking in twittering birds and flitting butterflies. 'Look at it, Aunt Leiria!' he said. '
Reflexively, Leiria turned to look upstream at the great stone turtle squatting over the place where the rivers joined. Water poured out its mouth, thundering into the wide basin below, sending up a mist laced with many rainbows.
For a moment she thought she saw something. A flicker of another scene laid on top of this idyllic vision, but black like a shadow cast. In this, the turtle god was the size of a mountain with lighting crackling on its back. And instead of water pouring from its mouth, there was a river of fire. Then the vision vanished and all was the same again.
At first she thought she was imagining things, but then Palimak said, 'Did you see it, Aunt Leiria?' His voice was excited with just a touch of fear. 'Did you see it?'
'Yes,' she said, almost in a whisper. 'I saw!'
High above in Queen Hantilia's silver palace Safar was having his own problems.
He paced the lush waiting area outside the Queen's courtroom, a little red-robed serving maid trotting behind him with a silver decanter of wine to fill the glass he clutched in his hand. Behind the closed doors he could hear the low murmur of the Queen's aides, discussing his request. A request he had made three days before and still had no answer.
His mind was buzzing with all manner of questions and half-formed conclusions. Many of them quite similar to Leiria's and Palimak's.
Yes, the Queen and her subjects were strange, yes, the wonderland spells emanating from the Temple of Hadin were too good to be trusted, and, yes, the citizens of Caluz faced eventual doom from the machine and had every reason to be frightened in the extreme, but somehow they spent their days with pleasant smiles pasted on their faces as if life could be no sweeter.
Safar paused at the window, which looked out over the Temple of Hadin. If he could have seen far enough he might have spotted Palimak and Leiria strolling along the path by the river. He sipped his wine, thinking, piling still more questions on his plate.
For instance, there was the matter of the twin Caluzes-one good, one evil-which made things complicated to the extreme. When he'd queried the Queen's wizards and scholars about the phenomenon, they became blank- faced, uncomprehending. Their own situation was too complex to fathom, much less factor in such minor things as the cause of it all. Their main worry was that Safar would refuse, or be unable to help them. So they coated every difficulty with such a sweet layer of honey Safar came to doubt most of what they said.
In the courtroom there was a hush as the Queen spoke and Safar turned his head to listen. But her voice was so low it was swallowed by the thick silver doors that closed off the chamber.
Safar let the serving maid refill his cup, giving her an absent smile by way of thanks.
Hantilia was as serene as her subjects, he thought, but seemed more willing to speak her mind. Her magical resources were great, so she wasn't quite as affected as the others by the dream-spinning machine. Possibly it was because she was spinning so many of her own-and all were aimed directly at Safar. It was an innocent thing, an unconscious thing, or so he supposed. Although she was a demon and he was human, she found him attractive and was sending out many signals and spells that made her alluring. How he should or would react remained to be seen.
He pushed all this aside for another time-if there ever was to be such a time. There was urgent business to attend to before he began to plumb this and the other mysteries of the odd mirror worlds that made Caluz.
Safar resumed his pacing. He'd rarely been so frustrated. He'd expected to be rushed off to the temple immediately where he would consult with the Oracle he'd come so far to see. The queen said the Oracle of Hadin and all her people had been waiting for his arrival, so one would think they'd be just as anxious for the foretold visit to begin. Except there was apparently more to consulting the Oracle than just marching into the temple and announcing his presence. He was told there were elaborate purification ceremonies that had to be performed first. Ceremonies and spell castings that would take a week or more. So he was bathed and oiled and suffered so many hours in incense filled rooms that he felt like smoked meat.
Meanwhile, he fretted and gnawed at his growing worry that all would be for naught.
Uppermost in his mind was what to do about Iraj. The question wasn't if his enemy would show up, but when. The flash of awareness Safar had caught of Iraj's presence had been very strong-as if Protarus had been newly energized, stronger in purpose and determination than ever.
Safar would just as soon not be here when Iraj and his spell brothers showed up with their vast army.
The only reason he had tarried in this cursed place was because Asper's ghost had said the way to Syrapis was through Caluz. How this could be, he didn't know. But he had to take the chance. Safar was more convinced then ever that only in Syrapis would he find the key to the disaster that was overtaking the world.
The disaster blowing on poisoned winds in far Hadinland.
The serving maid offered more wine. Safar hesitated, then shook his head, no, and returned his now empty cup.
He smiled, thinking, many things besides Iraj Protarus could stop him from reaching Syrapis. Life being what it is he might even choke on a wine cork and that would be the rather foolish end to the saga of Safar Timura, son of a potter who rose to become the king's chief wazier, only to die trying to get at his drink.
Just then, while he was grinning at his own imagined clownish demise, the doors boomed open and a troop of robed priestesses with serene eyes and pleasant smiles came to escort him into the Queen's presence.
He tried to read Hantilia's expression as he approached the gilded throne, but all she presented was a sweet smile on her oddly-to him-beautiful demon's face. He also couldn't tell from the atmosphere of the courtroom if a decision had been reached. The Caluzians only watched his progress down the main aisle, murmuring little
