Below on the plain, the bow’s center crumbled, the recurves fell apart, and the barbarians surrendered.
“Their strength was only in their magic,” Prince Marudin said, shaking his head in wonder.
“Not entirely.” Matt remembered Genghis Khan’s conquests in his own world. “If they had met our armies one at a time, we would have fallen to them piecemeal.”
Marudin nodded. “But when all the armies of Islam and Christendom joined together, they could not hold against us.”
Matt shrugged. “The Mongols are excellent horsemen, but so are the Arabs. Okay, so several light cavalry can chop one European knight to pieces, but nothing can stand against fifty of them charging in a body. Then too, Arjasp made the classic mistake of fighting a war on two fronts. Which reminds me, we’ll have to tell Prester John to go back and check for garrisons along the Great Wall.”
The monarchs met with reserve and wariness that quickly turned into temporary friendship as they sat together to judge Arjasp’s field-sorcerers and priests of Ahriman. They were unanimous in agreeing that the only ones of his temples that could stay open were those that had not advocated treason against the local government, and since all of them had, the priests were given a simple choice: repent and return to farming under close military supervision, or die. Most saw a great deal of virtue in following the plow.
The sorcerers and shamans were another matter. The sorcerers, threatened with death and a face-to-face meeting with the Prince of Lies, decided on conversion and denunciation of their former profession. The shamans were quick to admit their mistake in having believed Arjasp’s claims. Convinced of the sincerity of their devotion to their totems, Prester John sent them back to their peoples, only requiring that they leave with him the talismans Arjasp had given them. Tafas, the Caliph, and Alisande were content to follow his lead in the matter, since shamans were outside their experience.
When the tribunal was over, Matt and Balkis drew Prester John aside and pressed a small leather-bound trunk into his hands.
“What is this?” he asked, frowning.
“Leather bound around a silver box,” Matt told him. “Inside the silver box is a brooch with a huge crystal of rose quartz carved with the Seal of Solomon, and inside the crystal is Arjasp.”
Prester John smiled slowly. “The Seal of Solomon? Then he cannot come out!”
“I did sort of have that in mind,” Matt admitted. “Of course, if you want him out—for, say, a military tribunal or some other sort of trial—I suppose you could pry it out of its setting and loose him out the back.”
“We could at that.” John turned the brooch over and saw the seal engraved on the back of the metal as well. “Of course, it might be kinder to leave him within, especially since he is secure as long as the stone remains set.”
“To leave him within for eternity?” Balkis protested. “Surely that is too harsh a punishment for anyone!”
“It would be more harsh to execute him, and let him confront the demon he has worshiped,” John said grimly. “Be easy in your heart, young one—his fate is not so harsh as you might imagine.”
“Ask Prince Marudin about it,” Matt advised. “He’s gone through it, sometimes for centuries at a time.”
She did, and Marudin told her, “A crystal, lamp, or bottle with a spell that can hold a djinn makes time move far more slowly than it does for us outside. We spent months searching for the children, but only two days passed for them.”
“Still, eternity …!”
“Someone will be foolish enough to let him out eventually,” Marudin said evenly. “That is why it would be better if it were Prester John who did so, for he has the magic to control the madman and slay him if he will not repent—which I am sure he will not; he is so mad as to think he is right.”
“But until he does …”
“Not much time will pass at all—for him,” Prince Marudin assured her. “Time within the crystal seems to be keyed to the prisoner‘s mood in some way. That is why I am still young even though I have been locked in prison for centuries of sleep—time was bottled with me, always just a little more than I could tolerate.”
“It’s a sort of waking stasis,” Matt explained, but that didn’t seem to make things any clearer for either of them.
“Think of Prince Kaprin,” Marudin explained. “Angel that he was, he took responsibility for the younger ones, trying desperately to keep them amused so that they would not be afraid. Since he had them enjoying themselves by the games he made up, mere days passed for them—they would have been content to stay much longer.”
“Kaprin, however, was definitely near the end of his tether,” Matt said, smiling. “He was running out of ideas for keeping them happy, so he was more than ready to get out.”
“By that token,” Balkis said thoughtfully, “Arjasp should be ready to exit only moments after going in, for he will surely be raging at his imprisonment.”
“Yes, and it serves him right,” Matt said, seething. “Fortunately, it could be a year or more in this outside world before Prester John is ready to deal with him. He very easily may step out to find himself surrounded by Prester John and his priests, about to deliver judgment.”
“I hope he fumes and frets every second of that year,” Prince Marudin said, “but I fear it will be the reverse—that it will seem only seconds to him.”
“I thank you, Prince.” Balkis seemed quite relieved. “It is not so harsh a punishment, then.”
“Not a scrap of what he deserves,” Marudin said grimly.
Maracanda was a free city again, ruled by a monarch, perhaps, but a monarch of its own people. Guests of the Crown, Alisande and Matt walked the terrace of the palace in the dusk, gazing out over the lights of the city and inhaling the fragrance of exotic blooms.
“I rejoice that the three younger children seem to have emerged from the gem unharmed,” Alisande said, but sadness tinged her face. “I fear, though, that our boy will be scarred by the experience.”
“Doesn’t seem all that bad to me.” But Matt was concerned because she was.
“Have you not noticed how much more solemn he has become?” Alisande protested. “He is far too responsible for his age!”
“Oh, I think he’ll recover, given his normal ration of playtime,” Matt said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Besides, an overdeveloped sense of responsibility might not be a bad thing, for a boy who’s going to grow up to become a king.”
“Well, that is so,” Alisande admitted. “But that is all the more reason to ensure that he has much time to play while he may!”
“We’ll get a tutor who knows how to ration the lessons,” Matt agreed. “One good result you can’t deny, though—he’s made a real hit with the djinn twins. Our children and Lakshmi’s will be fast friends all their lives.”
“That is surely so.” Alisande smiled, gazing into his eyes. “Trust you to find the bright side of the coin, my love.”
Later that night Prester John took Matt aside and asked, “The young one, the maiden who is a wizard—has she emerged from these trials unscathed? For surely I know that the hearts of the young are most vulnerable when they must witness human cruelty.”
“She seems to be coping pretty well,” Matt said. “In fact, she was a little worried that Arjasp’s fate might be too harsh.”
“She is sound, then, and has a good heart indeed.” John’s smile became brittle. “Even so, I do not think she would have been so merciful if she had witnessed the barbarians’ taking of the city sixteen years ago.”
“Sixteen years,” Matt said slowly. “Balkis is sixteen.”
“Then you have noticed?”
“Noticed what?” Matt asked.
“She is of our breed.”
Matt stared at Prester John a moment while he sorted it out and made sense of it. Then he said softly, “Of course. That’s why your people seemed to have a familiar look. That’s why you thought she was our local guide.”