and horrify you vastly!
He can rack your brains with chains
and gibberings grim and ghastly!”
Since there weren’t any shrouds to fill, all that happened was a sudden heavy jangling all around them, underlying gloating voices uttering jumbles of nonsense syllables and giggling in deep, liquid tones.
The thief cried out in horror and shrank back. Matt followed with the sword, chanting,
“Silence is golden,
And talk overrated
.
Let all noise I’ve called up
Forthwith be abated!”
The darkness was silent again, or as much as night in a big city can be. There were still voices calling out here and there in the distance, the creaking of ships tied up at the wharf, scurryings and chirpings of small life-forms that weren’t willing to admit the forest had been cut out from under them, and over it all, the shouting of soldiers coming nearer.
“You won’t be lying,” Matt told the thief. “Out of the clothes, now, before I make them jump off you!”
With alacrity, the thief pulled off his robes.
“Go on, now, get lost!” Matt snapped. “You can keep your knife, if you promise not to use it unless you’re attacked.”
“I promise!” The thief dashed past him and out the alleyway. Angry voices shouted, and boots clattered on cobbles.
“The soldiers have seen him,” Matt told Balkis. “We’ve got to move fast.” He pulled on the dark robe and tunic, muttering,
“Classifications of pesties I do not distinguish!
Let all lice and germs from these clothes be extinguished!”
“You are indeed a wizard!” Balkis said in a shaky meow, “and you cast your spells with such ease!”
“All it takes is a good memory and practice improvising.” Matt patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”
Balkis jumped onto his shoulder again, and Matt hurried away down the alley. He heard the thief squalling excuses and knew the soldiers had caught him. That meant they’d be running down the alley in minutes—as soon as they could calm the footpad enough to get some intelligible sentences out of him. As he hurried he explained, “I don’t like to sling magic around so lightly, but there wasn’t time to reason with him.”
“Why should you hesitate to work magic?” Balkis wondered.
Matt dodged around a series of close comers, explaining, “Because you never know whose attention you might be attracting.”
Light exploded in front of him, then condensed into a roughly human form.
“Someone like that?” Balkis asked in a shaky voice.
“Yes.” Matt swallowed. “What were you saying about the nearest shadow?”
The glowing humanoid shape shrank in on itself until it was only an ordinary human male, and a rather old one at that, dressed in a midnight-blue robe with a matching cylindrical hat with a curving taper, which contrasted nicely with the white moustache, snowy beard, and bushy white hair falling to his shoulders. He didn’t look Hindu—his face too long, nose too prominent, eyes too light. Something about him reminded Matt of the Ayatollahs he had seen in the newspapers, maybe the eyes; they blazed with anger and fanatical purpose.
The apparition raised an arm slowly, forefinger pointing straight at Matt and trembling with rage. “Who are you who dares obstruct Angra Mainyu from his dominion? Pale, whey-blooded fool! Do you not know it is the Great Khan’s destiny to sweep all before him? Do you not know he must yield all the earth to the reign of Ahriman, that the Lord of Darkness must rule this corrupted world for a time? For if he does not, Ahura Mazda cannot rise to overthrow him and triumph, to free all from the bondage of Evil and rule the world in peace and joy! Would you block all of mankind from this earthly paradise? Do you have the gall and effrontery to stand against the gods?”
“Yes, now that you mention it.” The mad old man had gone on long enough so that Matt had recovered from his first shock. “I always thought that people were perfectly capable of ruling their world by themselves—with the support of God, of course, but everything needs that support, anyway. Nothing can exist without it.”
“Heresy!” the madman fumed. “You have been corrupted by these lingam-worshiping Hindus! Do you not know that the world is balanced between a force of darkness and one of light, between evil and good, between Angra Mainyu and Ahura Mazda? Do you not know they are equally strong, each seeking to conquer the earth, and that man is the key to the struggle, that we must fight it out on earth, for whichever god’s people win man’s war, that god will also triumph over his enemy?”
“That delicate a balance, huh?” Matt shook his head regretfully.” ‘Fraid I can’t agree, old man.”
“You shall speak with respect!” the old man thundered. “You shall call me Arjasp, you shall call me High Priest!”
“I’ll call you mistaken,” Matt said evenly, “for I believe that the God of Good is all-powerful, and the Evil One lives only by His sufferance.”
Arjasp leveled an arm, pointing a trembling finger at Matt. “You are one of these Jewish heretics!”
“Well, I suppose so.” Matt pursed his lips, considering. “I’m a Christian, and I’d say that is a heresy of Judaism, yes.”
“You shall fail, you shall die!” Arjasp ranted. “I shall slay you with magicks, I shall send a sorcerous horde against you! None must stay the reign ofAhriman! No one may prevent the conquest of Angra Mainyu! The Lord of Night must triumph, so that the Wheel may turn to bring once again the dominion of Ahura Mazda!”
Matt frowned. “Where did you get hold of the idea of—”
“Behind you!” Balkis squalled as she jumped from his shoulder. Matt whirled, but too late. The club landed on the side of his head, not the back, and he slumped down into darkness.
The army waited in the outer bailey, knights by war-horses that curvetted and danced, waiting for their masters to mount. The infantry leaned on their spears, sipping at last mugs of mulled ale and gossiping about the shortcomings of their leaders, as soldiers have always done. They waited with growing impatience for their queen to lead them forth.
Alisande watched from the battlements of the keep, clad in light mail, helm, and gauntlets, having a few last words with her viceroy and castellan.
“There are only a thousand of them,” Jimena said, her eyes shadowed with worry.
“They are only my personal guard, Mother Mantrell,” Alisande assured her. “My barons shall bring their own men as they join my banner. Ere we come to Seilmar to take ship, we shall number them by the thousand.”
“The herald told us a week ago that King Rinaldo’s troops were sailing from Gibraltar,” Ramon noted.
Alisande nodded. “We shall meet him at Knossos on the isle of Crete, and Frisson’s troops also.”
“But not himself?”
Alisande smiled. “He has proved skilled at governance, but not at war. His barons vied .for command, and he dispatched them under the Graf von Wegensburg, with lesser noblemen in his train.”
“And thereby rid himself of several of the worst thorns in his side,” Mama said, smiling.
“Even so.”
“So you will not take ship at Venoga?” Ramon asked.
Alisande smiled. “King Boncorro is a congenial neighbor when it suits him—but I am not about to test his friendship by marching an army of thousands through half his land.”
“Wise,” Ramon admitted. “Still, it seems the least he could do to help forestall the horde from attacking Europe, considering that he is not going himself, nor even sending anything but a token force.”