Wolves of the Gods

arena, taking his measure of the beastmen. Sparks showered out and at the same time Safar punched the release lever on his belt and dropped into Khysmet's saddle as smoothly as if he had vaulted from a sturdy fence.

And then came the organized chaos of what Biner called 'The Big TBF, my lad!' Meaning, The Big Finish. It was fast, it was furious, but also quite stylized and elegant. There was none of the fake gore favored by other circus troupes. Methydia would have never permitted such a thing. 'People have troubles enough,' she always said, 'without being reminded of the terrible things that are done. Give it art.

Give it drama. Give them a little sex, a little comedy, a clown chase. And then a nice bit of action, with a happy ending that will send them all home to sweeter dreams than they had before the circus came.'

So that's what Safar did. He gave the Kyranians lots of action, but with no hidden pig's bladder of blood bursting when a sword stroke was made. The battle was one of daring acrobatics and high drama, with many illusions-some circus trickery, some magical spells cast by Safar-to tell the tale. In the end, Palimak was rescued. The three heroes regrouped. The villains were driven off. And the standard retrieved.

On horseback now, Safar, Palimak and Leiria turned to the crowd and in a flourish of trumpets announced victory over the forces of evil. Leiria waving the flag of Kyrania as fireworks shattered the black clouds away and the bright sun and sweet breezes swept through the arena again.

Any cheering that had gone before was nothing to what happened now. There were whistles and screams and shouts, hands imploding, feet stomping so hard the stands swayed and creaked. Then they all poured out of their seats and into the arena, surrounding the whole circus troupe which had come out to take its bows.

Someone shouted, 'For Kyrania!'

And they all took it up as a chant-all thousand of them. Refugees, torn from a sweet land, standing in the center of the Hells, shouting:

'KYRANIA! KYRANIA! KYRANIA!'

Safar let the emotion carry him until it reached its highest point. The others must have felt it too. Leiria gave his hand a squeeze and Palimak whispered, 'I'm ready, father.'

A gesture from Safar brought the little airship sailing out of nothingness to soar above the arena. The crowd, as if sensing something, was suddenly silent, staring up at the magical airship. Safar cast the final spell, letting it ride up and up, like a trapeze racing to its apex.

He imagined Methydia. Her smoky almond eyes. Long black tresses streaked with silver. Cheeks bones dramatically high. Fruited lips parted in a smile. First he chanted the Balloonist's Prayer. The one Methydia had chanted every eve and every dawn:

'Come to us Mother Wind.

Lift us in hands blessed

By the warm sun.

We have flown high.

We have flown well.

Take us in your arms, Mother Wind.

And when you are done,

Set us gently on the ground.'

Then he sang the words to Asper's poem:

' 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 … '

He heard Palimak whisper/singing with him and smiled. Then the circus troupe and the crowd joined in, singing:

' … free on love's sighing winds

To the place where Life and Death

And things that never meet

Are destined to unite.'

She came in a gentle wind off the river, at first nothing more than a gray wisp of fog. But it was a fog heavy with the scent of violets and soon it grew and took form. A face gradually emerging.

Safar sucked in his breath.

It was Methydia.

And she called, 'Sa-fahrr.'

The voice came from everywhere, but at the same time it seemed right next to his ear, saying, 'Sa-fahrr

… Sa-fahrr.' Each like a long sigh.

And Safar said to the ghost, 'I'm here, Methydia.'

She saw him and smiled, nodding, 'Safar. I see you, Safar.'

He was nearly overwhelmed by the ghostly presence, her perfume and haunting voice unhinging him from his moorings. Then he saw the ghost frown-sad … disappointed.

Safar remembered. 'Thank you for the gift, Methydia,' he said. Then he held out empty hands, saying,

'But I have nothing so grand for you, my love. I have only this…'

And he blew her the promised kiss.

He heard Methydia's deep-throated laugh of pleasure. Saw her ghost reach up with a wispy hand to mock catch his kiss. She held the closed fist to her lips-kissed it. Then opened her hand and blew…

Her ghostly kiss came on a heady breeze and Safar drank it in, sighing, nearly drunk with the wine sweetness of it.

Then the ghost said, 'Farewell, Safar. Farewell.'

And Methydia was gone.

Instead, yawning over their heads as large as any galley that sailed the Great Sea, was the airship.

Transformed to full size by Methydia's ghostly kiss. The breeze singing in its lines, magical bellows pumping, fire gouting, twin balloons swollen and straining to sail away.

The Kyranians were overawed by the miracle. First there was a murmur. Then a low mutter of amazement. Then the mutter became a shouted chorus of:

'Kyrania! Kyrania!'

Biner pushed through the crowd to Safar. 'By the gods,' he cried, slapping him on the back so hard he was nearly bowled over. 'We're ridin' the winds again, lad,' he cried. 'Ridin' the winds.'

Queen Hantilia smiled through tears. 'That was quite touching,' she said, wiping her eyes.

She looked away from the scene in her mirror where the Kyranians, led by Safar, rejoiced. 'I'm such an emotional creature,' she said to her assistant. 'My heart strings have always been plucked too easily.'

'I must say, Majesty,' the assistant said, 'that the airship was quite a surprise. I never expected Lord Timura to do such a thing.'

'He does have an amazing way of working his magic,' the Queen replied. 'Most of us mages just want to get the spell over with-and do the minimum required. In this case, the minimum would never have worked. Ghosts aren't easy to summon. And this Methydia was apparently a great witch-and those kinds of ghosts are hardest of all to deal with. Actually, I'm not sure anyone has ever managed what he just accomplished.'

'Surely, the great Lord Asper, Majesty?' the assistant protested.

Hantilia rubbed her brow, thinking. Then she murmured, 'Possibly. Just possibly.' She looked at her puzzled assistant. 'I'm only guessing,' she said, 'but part of that spell did have the ring of Asper to it.'

'Pardon, Majesty,' the assistant said, 'but a little while ago you said that Lord Timura was attempting to accomplish three things. But you only named two. What, pray, was the third?'

The Queen gestured at the mirror, where Palimak was sitting astride Safar's shoulders, waving to the cheering crowd.

'The boy,' she said. 'The spell you just witnessed was a dress rehearsal for something much, much bigger. And the only way he can do it is with the boy.'

The Queen sighed. 'Another sad little tale in the making,' she said.

She waved a claw at the mirror and the scene disappeared. 'Send for Lord Timura,' she commanded.