Mika closed his eyes and concentrated. He thought he remembered the spell, a fairly low-level one he had learned early on but never used. Actually, he had used it just once; he'd been five years old when he tied Celia to a tree and made her eat the "magic" potion he'd whipped up out of berries and bugs, grass, and dirt. He smiled at the memory.
Looking down at the ropes, he began to speak the words softly under his breath. It was working! He could actually see the ropes writhing, starting to move. Soon they would start to loosen, to fall away from his body. There! Now they were moving! Were they pulling tighter? Yes, tighter! And still tighter! Damn! He'd gotten the spell backward!
"Mika! What's the matter? Your face is all red, and you look funny!" Margraf cried in alarm.
"Wsshfxx! Blrgle!" Mika spluttered as he tried to say the words, to get them out as the rope pulled itself tighter around his chest, squeezing his lungs, cutting off his air and making it virtually impossible to speak.
Somehow with his very last breath he whispered the combination of words that would reverse the spell. As he toppled to the ground he felt the ropes unwind and fall from his body.
Mika lay there for a moment with everyone clustered around him; Tam, RedTail, the princess, and Margraf. The princess even licked his face, which, while he appreciated the sentiment, he could have done without.
Finally he crawled to his feet, one hand pressed against his aching chest, and sat down on the hard stone bench that was part of the wall of the cell.
"I didn't know you were a magician," said Margraf, wonder and awe apparent in his voice. "Can you do other tricks like that?"
"That wasn't a trick, boy," Mika said, his chest still aching. "I wasn't trying to amuse you."
"I mean, if you can do that, you can do something that will get us all out of here, can't you? You'll save my dad and the others, won't you?"
Mika looked down at Margraf, saw the frailty and the pallor of his skin, his eyes bright with hope, believing in him. Mika looked away, not having the courage to tell the boy that although he was a magic- user, he wasn't a very good one and that the odds were more in favor of him getting a spell wrong than right. He was an unlikely choice for a savior, but it seemed as though he was the only hope they had.
"I'll do my best, boy, I'll do my best," he said with a sigh. Margraf beamed up at him as though he had promised him the world.
Shaking his head, wondering how they had gotten into this mess, Mika looked around and tried to wxk out some sort of plan.
It had been dark out when they'd been dragged out of the underground passages. Mika did not have enough knowledge of the city to know in which direction they had been taken. They had traveled through much of the city, through narrow streets and open squares, ending at the foot of the tall pyramid they had seen while still far out on the plains.
Every city block contained a single tall tower silhouetted against the starlit sky, one that was twice as high as the buildings surrounding it. Mika had been perplexed at their purpose, but with the first light of dawn voices rang out in sing-song chants that were vaguely melodic and utterly compelling.
"It is the priests calling the faithful to prayer," Margraf had explained.
"Who goes?" asked Mika.
"Everyone," Margraf had replied, "but they don't go anywhere, they just kneel wherever they are and pray." Margraf had further explained that the call to prayer occurred four times a day and was always obeyed.
Now, a germ of an idea began to form in Mika's mind.
The prison at the foot of the pyramid was small and square and built of the same red ochre adobe as the rest of the city.
It seemed that the mountain blocked the rainfall. What litde there was fell on the higher elevations to the east and never reached the city. Water was a scarce and precious commodity found only by means of deep wells. Water was rationed out by the priests- and may the gods help anyone who offended a priest.
Margraf and Mika had been placed in one cell along with the wolves. Hornsbuck and several others, including Lufa, had been put in a cell somewhere along the hall that divided the low, one-story building. The windows and door were heavily barred with thick metal rods. Mika examined them carefully and knew that he would never be able to break them or even bend them enough for Margraf to squeeze through.
Once they'd locked the prisoners in their cells, the guards had left the building, confident that there was no way for them to escape. Just before dawn broke, the priests had come and taken Weasel-face and several others away, paying no mind to their screams or their cries for mercy.
Further conversation with the boy revealed that the sacrifices were held both morning and night, every single day of the year without fail.
Shortly after freeing himself from the rope, Mika noticed that the princess had positioned herself against the bars of the door. Her ears were pricked forward, and she was growling. Mika walked over and looked through the bars but other than a cell directly across the way, he could see nothing. Nor could he see the inhabitant of the cell. Shrugging, he turned his mind to other matters. Escape would be difficult.
Along about mid-day, Mika heard the tramp of feet approaching the building. He moved to the small, high window and looked out, but all he could see was the pyramid.
"Quick, tie me up again!" Mika said, fearful that if he were found unbound, he would never get the chance to put his plan into effect.
Margraf tied him with the silken rope, and Mika wedged himself in a corner of the room, feigning a look of sullen misery that was not far from real.
Imploring cries poured out of the cells as footsteps pounded down the corridor and stopped at Mika's cell.
Margraf had been over-eager in obeying Mika's orders. By the time the door swung open and the guards entered, followed by a clean-shaven man with piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones, Mika's fingers were numb from lack of blood.
"Your date ofborning?" demanded the priest, his eyes fixed on Mika's.
"The tenth of Harvesttime," answered Mika.
"You're lying," snapped the priest. "I can see it in your eyes."
"That's pain you see in my eyes," growled Mika. "Why would I lie? I know my date ofborning."
"You would lie to save your pathetic life," said the priest, "but it will do you no good. You will die, as will all these others, given unto the honor and glory of Exag the Magnificent. Say your farewells to this sad Oerth and rejoice, for it is a far better world that you go to."
"Do I get a choice?" asked Mika.
"You should be happy to leave this painful world of sorrows behind," said the priest as he leaned forward and looked into Mika's eyes, attempting to convince him. "Your heart should be filled with joy knowing that through your sacrifice you will enable the world to turn to yet another cycle. Without your body, the sun would eat the Oerth and all would die. Does that not gladden your heart, my son?"
Mika stared into the priest's eyes, almost overcome by the intensity of the man's gaze. He blinked and drew back abruptly, suddenly more fearful than he had been before. The man was the most dangerous of all opponents, a religious fanatic who truly believed in his own dogma.
"Do you really think that it is so?" asked Mika, knowing that the only way to gain any latitude was to pretend to believe the nonsense that the priest was spewing. Denial would only infuriate the man.
"Of course," said the priest, his eyes shining with the light of true madness.
"Then if it will serve my brothers and the world, maybe it won't be so bad," said Mika. "Can you promise that the next world will be a better place?"
"I know it to be true, my son," said the priest. "Has not the great Exag himself given us his word? It is a great honor to die for Exag. I wish that I were able to do so myself."