The old priest nodded. “There are none.”
“I met one,” Matt said.
The old priest stiffened again, his eyes flashing. “If that is so, he would be a daivayasni—a demon-worshiper—for Ahriman is the greatest of demons. I earnestly hope there is no one who would be a sincere daivayasni. He must have been a rogue and impostor.”
“I think he’s more likely a madman,” Matt said slowly. “He wore garments like yours, but of midnight-blue, and ranted at me that Angra Mainyu must triumph in the battle for control of the world so that Ahura Mazda can begin winning again.”
“We have never taught such nonsense!”
“I thought not,” Matt said. “What do you teach?”
The old priest shrugged and spread his hands. “That Ahura Mazda will win when the world ends. That is all.”
“And Angra Mainyu will never win?”
“Never fully, or forever.” The old priest smiled sadly. “Though when the Arabs conquered Persia and converted so many of the faithful, there were many who thought the Dark One had triumphed. Our ancestors, loyal to the Lord of Light, held fast. Some few were in small enclaves in the hills of Persia, and there are still some there. Most, though, took ship and sailed to the island of Hormuz. After some years, they had need to set sail again, and landed on the seacoast not far from here. We are seeds from which Ahura Mazda can begin once again to raise a forest of faith.”
“Only of faith?” Matt asked. “You’re not planning to start a holy war for him?”
The old priest shook his head, again with his sad smile. “The day of the Persian Empire is done, my friend. It is in the spirit, and in the hearts and minds of men, that Ahura Mazda will conquer.”
“Reassuring,” Matt said, “but Arjasp isn’t willing to keep the fight on so noble a plane.”
The old priest went rigid, eyes wide with anger. “Arjasp! Calls he himself that?”
“Yes, he does.” Matt frowned. “What’s wrong with the name?”
“Arjasp was the general who defeated the last emperor of old Persia,” the old priest told him. “Taking that name is as good as a declaration that he intends to conquer all the world!
Even worse, it was one of his soldiers who slew the prophet Zoroaster himself. Only that soldier’s name would have been more abhorrent to us than that of Arjasp!”
Matt stared. “You don’t think it’s the same person, do you?”
The old priest shook his head, still angry. “As a soldier, though the real Arjasp’s actions against us were evil, I have always sought to remember that he quite likely believed himself right in what he did. To us that was evil, of course, and a stroke for Ahriman, but I doubt Arjasp intended it so. Moreover, he died two thousand years ago.”
“So this renegade magus deliberately took a name that would be insulting to you?”
“Perhaps.” The priest frowned, looking away, thinking. “It is my habit, though, to be slow in imputing evil to people’s reasons—to their actions, yes, but not to their motives. He may believe the real Arjasp‘s deeds were, as I have said, blows for Angra Mainyu, and taken the name as a way of declaring whose work he seeks to do. Where is this man, my friend?”
“I don’t know,” Matt said slowly, “but he seems to be the one who convinced a barbarian chieftain he could conquer the world, and is using his magic to help the man do just that.”
The old priest stared. “You do not mean it is this Arjasp who is the power behind the horde and its conquests!”
“I’m afraid it looks that way, yes.”
The old man looked away in horror, grasping Matt’s shoulder to support a suddenly trembling body. “Oh, my friend, then the world is in deep and deadly danger indeed, for if Arjasp‘s gur-khan conquers in the name of Ahriman, there is no end to the evil he may do!”
Matt stepped closer, putting an arm around the old man to hold him up. “I’m sorry—I didn’t realize this news would affect you so deeply.”
“How could it do aught else?” the old man asked. He lifted his eyes to Matt’s again, deeply agitated. “Is there nothing we can do to stop this man?”
“Actually,” Matt said, “I was going to ask you that.”
With a cry of despair, the old priest looked away again. “I shall pray … I shall pray to Ahura Mazda to strike stronger blows against Angra Mainyu …”
“Yes, attack the source of the trouble.” But Matt knew that if Ahura Mazda wasn’t supposed to win until the world ended, it wasn’t going to do him and his beloved much good right now. Only a bigger and stronger army would. An army, or …
The old priest lifted reddened, frightened eyes to Matt’s. “What more can I do?”
“Actually,” Matt said, “I was thinking you might teach me your magic—but if the magi are gone . ..”
“Gone, but we were careful to preserve knowledge of their ways, so they might never rise to their despotism again,” the dastoor said darkly.
Matt lifted his head slowly. “Which is what Arjasp is trying to do!”
The dastoor nodded. “I shall teach you.”
Matt stayed with the dastoor for two weeks, learning the essential spells and the basic approach to magic. It seemed to be based on astrology, on reading the future, and he was astounded at how accurate and detailed the priests were able to be. Of course, they reinforced the stargazing with some highly secret verses in an ancient and arcane language, but with his translation spell still going strong, Matt had no trouble learning them. Memorizing the sounds of the alien syllables took a bit more doing, but he managed it.
Somehow, he had a notion that the dastoors of his own universe didn’t know a thing about magic, and probably avoided the idea like the plague—but they didn’t live in a universe in which magic really worked.
He found that the priests didn’t really see the future—they saw a whole range of futures, from the disastrous to the supremely fortunate, and the events that caused each to happen.
“Can you foresee that for a single individual’s life?” Matt asked, awed by the panorama of the heavens as seen from the top of the hill near the town.
“Only the broad sweep of it,” the old priest told him, “only the major events, such as births, marriages, and deaths. We can advise overall policies that will lead to prosperity, and warn against others that will lead to ruin.”
Matt frowned. “But that’s what you can foresee for your whole people, too, and even for the world.”
“Even so,” the old priest agreed. “For nations, though, details are the whole lives of individual people. We cannot see so finely for anyone person.”
“Because he or she is the detail.” Matt nodded.
But once they knew the range of possible futures, the priests were able to see which events would lead to each, and were then able to compose verses that would strengthen Ahura Mazda’s struggle to bring those events to pass.
“Then all the congregations of Pars is include those prayers in their daily worship,” the old priest explained, “each yielding his own tiny bit of power to the Lord of Light.”
Matt knew it wouldn’t happen in his home world, of course. “But thousands of those bits of energy add up to a huge increase in strength,” he said. “And since Angra Mainyu doesn’t have such congregations giving him power, Ahura Mazda wins.”
“Now, though,” the old priest said, “Angra Mainyu has such worshipers.”
“Yes,” Matt said grimly, “thanks to Arjasp.” Then a thought struck him. “If Angra Mainyu didn’t have priests and congregations, though, where did he get the strength to fight Ahura Mazda in the first place?”
“Every evil thought, word, or action anyone commits strengthens Angra Mainyu,” the old priest said.