“We can say a bit more about the arguments with which Arjasp cozened Olgor,” a middle-aged wizard added. “He told him tales of Iskander’s empire, how that ancient Macedonian brought all the world under his sway, from Greece to the Indus River, in one short lifetime, not even a score of years. But he does not inspire his troops with Greek art and reason—he fires them with orgies and demon-worship.”
The barbarians shuddered, and one pleaded, “Speak not against Angra Mainyu, or he will cast us into eternal night!”
“I shall speak against the demon king and condemn him indeed,” the wizard told them, his face dark with anger, “for he cannot stand against the power of Allah, the One and Only God!”
The barbarians shrank from his words, moaning and making signs against evil.
“So Olgor’s goal is nothing less than the conquest of the whole world,” Suleiman said, brooding, “though how a priest of the magi can preach the worship of Ahriman, I cannot understand. Still, it is not his ultimate purpose that must concern us here—it is his immediate target.” He turned to a messenger. “Send word to Baghdad for all to leave the city and hide in the hills. We shall fall back and make a stand there; it may be that the city’s walls will give us victory over these masses of uncouth horsemen.”
The messenger bowed and turned away.
Suleiman turned back to the spies. “Will he be content with Baghdad, or must he come farther?”
“He will go to the edge of the world,” said one.
Another said, “He means to conquer yourself and all your empire, of course, O Caliph—but he wishes most earnestly to conquer all of the Holy Lands, especially Jerusalem and Mecca, to desecrate them in order to gain power for his demonic lord. He thinks that with the holy places, he will take also the wills to resist of both Muslims and Christians.”
A gasp of alarm echoed from every Arab, shocked at the audacity and impiety of such a thought.
“He may be right,” said the oldest wizard grimly. “The common folk might well think that if God could not save the cities consecrated to Him, He could not also save His people.”
“Such blasphemy,” Suleiman said angrily, “and such falsehood! Allah is the only true God, though I will concede other nations may have other names for Him! None can triumph over Him, and we shall prove that upon Olgor’s body!”
The barbarians trembled, and one screwed up his courage to say, “Know, O Sun of Wisdom, that these are not anti-Christian devil-worshipers, but anti-Muslim demonists. It is not the Christ whom they profane, but Allah.”
“They will blaspheme the Christ soon enough,” a wizard said darkly.
“I do not doubt it,” Suleiman agreed. “Therefore must we make common cause with the Christians to stand against this corrupted khan.”
The Arabs stared at him, shocked by the notion of such an alliance.
“How many of them are there?” Suleiman demanded of the spies.
The barbarians spread their hands, lost for words, and an Arab spy asked, “How many stalks of grass stand upon the steppes of Central Asia, my lord? His hordes are numbered by thousands, his subjects by hundreds of thousands. His warriors darken the plain to the horizon and beyond, and there are at least two camp-followers for each warrior, often more. They devastate the land like a plague of locusts.”
Suleiman’s face turned thunderous, but he only said, “Send word to King Richard in Bretanglia, to King Rinaldo in Ibile, to Queen Alisande in Merovence, to King Boncorro in Latruria, and to all the lesser monarchs of Europe. Send likewise to Tafas bin Daoud in Granada and all others of the governors of my empire, that they may know of this impious invader and send armies to crush him!”
“My lord,” said his chief wizard, “it shall be done.”
“Spoils ‘em, I tell you!” one mule-driver claimed. “Spoils ‘em rotten, both his wife and his children! Why, I hear tell he never even beats her!”
Balkis pricked up her cat-ears, very interested.
“Be sure he doesn’t, Johann,” another driver answered with a grin. “Would you beat your queen and sovereign?”
“Not if he wanted to keep living,” a third said.
Johann frowned and avoided the question. “A man’s supposed to beat his wife a little, Fritz! What kind of life can it be for a man, having his woman boss him around?”
“Come to think of it,” Fritz said thoughtfully, “I’ve never heard of her bossing him around, either. He is a wizard, after all.”
“There was that one time before they were married,” the third driver offered. “The way I heard it, he swore some sort of foolish oath about taking the throne of Ibile from its sorcerer-ruler so’s he’d be worthy to marry her, and the queen locked him up to keep him from going.”
Balkis felt a tremor pass through her deep inside. This Lord Wizard sounded a most romantic fellow!
“Didn’t work, Heinrich,” Johann reminded him. “He magicked his way out and went questing anyway.”
“Yah, but he didn’t take the throne,” Heinrich pointed out.
“No, he gave it back to King Rinaldo. Then he married Queen Alisande.”
“Guess he’d proved her kingdom needed him,” Heinrich said with a grin.
Balkis melted inside.
“But how about his little ones?” Johann demanded. “Kids’re supposed to be spanked!”
“Not royal ones,” Heinrich countered. “Why, I even hear some of ‘em has servants to take their beatings for ‘em!”
“Not Queen Alisande’s,” Johann said with disgust. “I hear that if Prince Kaprin is naughty, she doesn’t let him practice sword drill that day—and if he’s really bad, she won’t let him go riding, either!”
“That’s a punishment?” Fritz snorted.
“It is for a prince,” Heinrich opined. “The royal ones take to swords and horses like most kids take to sweetmeats.”
Johann sighed. “Well, I guess the Lord Wizard can always find a quick fumble with a serving maid. Who’d tell him no?”
“He would, from what I hear,” Fritz said with disgust. “Matter of fact, he laid down the law with all the manservants and the soldiers even before his wife did!”
Heinrich stared. “You mean he won’t even let the men sweet-talk the women into the hayloft?”
“He’s put men out of jobs when he found out they wouldn’t let the maids alone,” Fritz averred.
“Now, that’s going too far,” Johann said with disgust. “Morals be all well and good, but not so many of ‘em! A man’s got a right to try, don’t he?”
“Not if the woman don’t want it,” Heinrich told him, “ ‘leastways, according to the Lord Wizard.”
Balkis decided that Idris had been right—the royal family was the one for her. It sounded as though the Lord Wizard might even be himself that ultimate rarity, a man whom a woman could trust—like her foster father. Besides, as her teacher had said, why not learn magic from the best?
The caravan swayed through the gates into Bordestang, and Balkis had no trouble deserting—the drivers went into the first inn, leaving only one to watch the mule-train. She slipped away, dodging between hooves, and set her course for the castle, high above the town on its hill. She took a few false twists and turns, and had a few bad moments when one of the town mongrels decided she would make a good lunch—but she was able to go straight up the corner of a half-timbered building, leaving the nasty beast barking below in frustration. She had no trouble leaping from roof to roof—they leaned so closely together, scarcely a yard between—but as she went uphill into the richer part of town, the houses grew larger and drew apart. Finally she had to descend to the streets again, and had a difficult time in an alley where a large tom refused to believe she wasn’t in heat. She glanced around, made sure no one was watching, and changed back into a woman. The tom yowled in fright and scurried over the nearest fence without touching the wood.