Wolves of the Gods

There were heartening murmurs of approval. Safar pressed on.

'But to accomplish this great deed,' he said, 'we must first guard our own lives. For if we perish, who will take up our banner? Who will shoulder our cause?'

The murmurs grew louder, especially from the young soldiers like Renor and Seth, who were spurred on by growls of approval from the grizzled Sergeant Dario.

'My dear friends,' Safar said, building on that changing mood. 'That is why I had to awaken you. We are faced with both the gravest of dangers and the grandest of opportunities.'

Safar knew that when good and evil are placed side by side, human nature would instantly grab for the good and give less weight to the evil. So he wasn't surprised when he saw all the faces brighten as hope was suddenly raised from the dead at the news of 'the grandest of opportunities.'

'In a short while,' Safar said, 'I will be called to consult with the Oracle of Hadin. This meeting has been our purpose all along. This is why we had to face the terrors of the Black Lands to come here. For we have good reason to believe that many of the answers we seek will be revealed to us by the Oracle.'

He saw frowns and knew his people were growing vaguely disappointed. They were expecting an instant pot of gold, instead of a possibly long wait for what might or might not be good news from some mysterious Oracle who might decide to have a cranky day.

Safar smoothly dealt up what they really wanted, saying, 'But before that hour comes, my friends, I have a great miracle to show you.'

He pointed at Leiria, who held up the long black box. 'In there,' he said, 'is a great gift. A magical gift that will give us the edge we need against Iraj Protarus!'

Prickling with excitement, everyone craned their heads to look as Leiria ceremoniously presented the box to Safar. He opened the lid slowly, heightening the suspense.

Safar stomped his foot and there was a crack! as he set off a smoke pellet with his heel. Purple smoke obscured the platform for a moment, then it dissolved and the crowd gasped when they saw the miniature airship hovering just above his head. Safar gestured and the little furnaces sparked into life and the airship sailed about in ever widening circles, until it came to the edge of the grassy ring where it took up position and skimmed around the edges.

Everyone applauded. Khadji even cried out in recognition. The airship was vaguely similar to magical devices he had helped Safar with many years ago during the demon wars.

'That is only the beginning of the miracle, my friends,' Safar said. 'In exactly one hour we will cast a spell that will reveal an even greater wonder. To weave that spell I have asked all our circus friends to assist us. When you entered this arena you were promised a show-and a show you shall get!'

Safar raised his arms and shouted, 'Let the circus begin!'

And crack! came another explosion of smoke. And boom! went the drums. Music blared and the airship swung about in a long arc. Then the ship plunged through the smoke, lifting it away as it emerged from the other side-as if drawing a curtain.

People rubbed their eyes in amazement. The platform was gone. In its place was a gigantic, blue-speckled egg. There was a low drum roll and the egg began to shake, harder and harder until cracks zigzagged through the shell. Then it burst open and a score of clowns rushed out, colliding and chasing and prat-falling about until the audience was roaring with laughter.

From high above came a wild cry and everyone looked up as Arlain, wearing the filmiest of silk costumes and little under that, swung out of the sky on her trapeze. She breathed long plumes of fire as she plummeted down. Then she was going up, and up, letting go of at the apex of her swing. Then somersaulting, once, twice, three times-shooting flames as she twirled. And at the last moment, hanging there, a breath from a fall to her certain death.

Then the trapeze bar came back and Arlain grabbed it and swung away to safety and thunderous applause.

'Quite spectacular,' the Queen said as she viewed the scene through her mirror. 'And I must say, the more I learn about our handsome young Safar Timura, the more impressed I become.'

She waved at the scene in the mirror-Biner, bared torso rippling, performed an incredible feat of strength. 'This is sheer genius!'

'How so, Majesty?' murmured her assistant. 'Other than the obvious artistry of entertainment, I mean?'

Hantilia waved a dismissive claw at the mirror. 'Oh, that's just a device,' she said. 'But our Safar is making that device do double duty. Possibly even triple duty, now that I think of it.'

Her assistant frowned. 'Your Majesty is obviously much wiser than one such as I,' she said. 'But I would hope my wits weren't so dull that I couldn't see at least one of the three.'

Hantilia exposed her fangs in a smile and primped at her hair. 'It's a good thing you don't, my dear,' she said. 'Or I would have to worry about you.'

'I don't understand, Majesty.'

'The genius I am speaking of,' she said, 'involves the art of manipulation. Which is what this circus is.

Mass manipulation by a very powerful wizard. It's a good thing for his people that he has their best interests at heart. If he were a despot they would be his slaves.'

Light dawned in the assistant's eyes. 'I think I see the first, Majesty,' she said. 'He's using the circus to rebuild their spirits. Their morale, as they say.'

'Very good, my sweet,' the queen replied. 'But there's more to it then mere morale. If you had looked closely at the Kyranians-after he took away their false happiness-you would have seen that many of them were on the verge of rebellion. Of outright mutiny.

'They felt, possibly even justifiably, that much of what they have endured is Safar Timura's fault. And they were ready to turn against the only one who can save them. But by the time this circus is over, they will be ready to charge through the gates of the Hells for him.

'Which is a good thing, considering what we have planned for them in the very near future.'

'I can see that, Majesty,' the assistant said, 'but what else is Lord Timura accomplishing?'

Another gesture at the mirror-Kairo, balanced on a pole, juggling three clubs and his head. 'All the acts you see are part of the spell he's building. From the silly to the sublime, he is the weaver, they are his strings.

'The egg was the first part of the spell. Followed by the clown acts to call on the Jester. Rebirth from the egg. Strength from the mighty dwarf. Fire from that marvelous dragon woman. And so forth. As the entertainment goes on you'll see what I mean-if you watch closely, that is, and use your imagination.

'He's also mixing the Kyranians-his audience-into his magical tapestry. So when he casts the spell, they will be wedded to it. Co-creators, if you will, of the final result.'

'Which will be?'

Hantilia laughed. 'Oh, wait and see,' she said. 'I don't want to spoil it for you.'

Hantilia was only wrong about one thing. She'd imagined the spell as a weaving, but in fact there was no object of any kind in Safar's mind. He was concentrating solely on the image of a person-Methydia.

As the circus continued-one act of amazement followed by another-Safar watched and worked from the sidelines. He was disguised as one of the roustabouts hauling equipment and cables around during scene changes. As each performance reached its climax he lofted a spell on the applause that followed.

In a way they were love missives to Methydia. Safar imagined her in the Afterlife-still the great diva-smiling through tears at all the adulation.

The idea for the spell was drawn from Asper. Long ago the demon sage had written:

'My love, Remember!

If ever I am exiled from your sight,

Know that with my dying breath

I blew one last kiss and set

It free on love's sighing winds … '

To the place where Life and Death

And things that never meet

Are destined to unite.'