The Gods Awaken

quite hazy. Obviously it was some sort of magical creature.

Whatever was going on, powerful magic was being discussed and worked. Despite her empathy for a father and his son, this rankled her even more.

By the gods, she wanted to be included!

And then, as she stepped back from her latest attack on the thorn barrier to catch her breath and wipe perspiration from her brow, Palimak rose to his feet and came over to her.

Without one trace of condescension, he said, 'Pardon, Aunt Jooli, but could you help us with this?'

Jooli was amazed. And honored, in an odd sort of way, that Palimak had added the honorific of 'aunt' to her name. Instead of all those dreary royal terms like Your Highness, Your Ladyship, and so forth.

Leiria smiled at her as if she knew what was running through Jooli's mind.

Hells, Jooli thought, I'm an aunt to this remarkable young man! What could be better than that?

And then Safar said, 'I'm really sorry we've left you out of this, Jooli. The thing is, I recognized your grandmother's hand in this. Her spoor is mixed with that of the deity I call Queen X. And I was reluctant to put you in opposition to your own kin.'

He grinned, blue eyes warm and friendly. 'Will you forgive me?' he asked. 'It wasn't Palimak's fault. He urged, but I resisted. I guess I'm just so much of a family person-being Kyranian and all-that I thought it might cause you pain.'

'Nothing to forgive,' Jooli said gruffly, surprised at the sudden emotion roughening her voice.

'And if you really need help, I'd be pleased to offer it. Especially if it involves my grandmother. Believe me, there's no love lost between us.'

She joined them in their efforts, quickly catching the sense of the spell they were working. And also, after some concentration, she picked up the scent of Queen Clayre's magic-a too-sweet perfume underlying the acrid stench of fire.

Jooli knelt down and brushed aside leaves to make a bare patch of ground. As she talked, she made a sketch with a twig.

'My grandmother likes to use a special table for her magic,' she said, drawing the table. 'It looks like this

… also, the center is inlaid with golden tiles in the shape of a pentagram.'

She sketched in the tiles, making the lines much deeper to give a three-dimensional effect. 'Whatever or whoever this deity is that she's made her bargain with, chances are she's been summoned through those tiles.'

Jooli looked up at Safar. 'If we can break the contact between them-for only for a few seconds, even-we might be able to get through that barrier.'

'How do we do that, Aunt Jooli?' Palimak asked.

'Grandmother is a very strong-willed woman,' Jooli said. 'Even when she's ill, she refuses to acknowledge it. However, there is one thing that drives her mad.'

'What's that?' Safar asked.

'Capsicum,' Jooli replied.

Safar's eyebrows shot up. 'You mean, like pepper?' he asked.

'Exactly,' Jooli said. 'Pepper. The hotter the better. She doesn't even have to eat it. The mere presence of capsicum dust gives her a horrible reaction. She swells up like a balloon, her sinuses desert her and she gets a terrible rash all over body. She's a very vain woman, you know. So the rash probably angers her more than anything.'

'I don't have anything with pepper in it,' Safar said. He glanced around the jungle. 'Maybe we can find something here…'

'It's not necessary,' Jooli broke in. She grinned. 'When I was a girl and made up my first witch's kit I made sure to include powdered betel pepper in it.' She grinned. 'It was the best way I knew to keep my grandmother at bay.'

Palimak laughed. 'That's a great trick,' he exclaimed. 'If you can't beat them, sneeze them to death!'

Jooli fished out her kit and found a packet of betel powder-it was orange with streaks of yellow. She handed it to Palimak.

'Add this to your next batch of blasting elixir and see what happens,' she said.

Still laughing, Palimak did as she suggested, mixing the betel powder into the foul mixture in his portable wizard's bowl. Then he poured it into the small clay container that Safar gave him, jammed in the cork and handed it over to Jooli.

She hesitated. 'It's your trick, Aunt Jooli,' he said. 'You deserve the honors.'

Laughing with him, Jooli accepted the elixir. She cleared everyone from her path and held the jar high.

'Take this, grandmother!' she shouted.

And she hurled the jar. This time, the sheet of flame was even higher and hotter than before. A strange giddy sensation overcame Jooli. She had the sudden flash-vision of her grandmother sneezing and was struck with a fit of girlish giggles.

Laughing like a fool, but not caring, she shouted, 'Let's go!'

And she charged through the wide opening created by the explosion. The others followed, dragging Felino's litter behind them and laughing with her. Only Safar and Palimak knew what was so funny, but everyone was so relieved they'd finally broken out of that dank jungle that they laughed anyway.

Wheezing and gasping as they trundled out on the beach.

But then they heard the thunder of battle and the laughter died.

And they all looked out to sea, gasping in shock at the sudden realization.

The Nepenthe was on fire. Its deck swarming with soldiers in enemy uniforms, trying to put out the flames.

Surrounding the vessel were three other ships, all engaged in battle. But it wasn't the Nepenthe they were fighting. Whatever had happened there was long over. One only had to witness the prisoners in Kyranian uniforms crowded into the bow and under enemy guard to realize that.

This battle was going on elsewhere. Huge green flaming arrows-each easily twice the size of man-were being fired into the skies. Battery, after battery of them, shooting off in steady time.

And their target was the airship, hovering over the Nepenthe and fighting a losing battle. One of the arrows had struck the bow and they could see some of Biner's crew desperately trying to put out the blaze.

King Felino finally worked his gag free. And now it was his turn to laugh.

'You've lost, Safar Timura,' he gloated. 'Surrender while you can!'

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

DARK VICTORY

Biner was doing his damnedest to outmaneuver the enemy fleet, and to extinguish the fire raging in the bow of the airship. If it spread to the engines the whole airship would explode.

The ringmaster called on his deepest reserves of calm. Never mind that the show was a disaster, he and his people would continue to perform until the last fat clown provoked laughter and the curtain closed.

His orders were issued in his grand ringmaster's voice. A presentation of things to come for the audience, filled with all sorts of subtext for the performers.

'Turn left,' he boomed to the wheelman. Unhurried, but crackling with authority.

'Drop the port ballast,' he roared to the port crew, calmly demanding their urgent but measured action so the airship could rise above the next arrow shot.

'Put some soap into that water, sir!' he bellowed to the captain of the fire-fighting team.

And the fire captain quickly, but without panic, added soap to the water barrels that fueled the hoses his men were playing over the leaping green flames. It seemed a long time, but soon thick suds shot out over the fire,