The sages of Veda, who spoke a language almost identical to the High Speech of wizards, lived lives of meditation, prayer and study. The travellers, regarding Veda only as a waystation, did not attempt to study the sages, but did try and bargain with them for a bodyguard. Hearst, remembering how they had been picked out by Erhed on first entering Selzirk, wanted armed protection for the journey through the Rice Empire.
Miphon, negotiating with the head of the Secular Arm, took the trouble of reading the man's mind. He had given up doing this without excellent cause: he had swiftly grown profoundly tired of the murky hatred, jealousy, lust, envy, deceit, self-pity, cowardice, greed, treachery and self-delusion dominating so many human minds. He was pleased to find that the head of the Secular Arm was an honourable man who would keep to the bargain they had made.
The bargain was that Miphon would heal all illnesses that were brought to him within the next ten days – Miphon demonstrated his skills by healing the headman's haemorrhoids – then the Secular Arm would provide a bodyguard of two hundred troops to see the expedition through the Rice Empire, plus papers certifying that they constituted an embassy from Veda travelling to Provincial Endergeneer.
Day after day, while Miphon saw long lines of people, Hearst practised with his sword, continuing the training Farfalla had started him on. Meanwhile Blackwood went hunting in the surrounding countryside, riding out each day with horse and falcon.
Miphon found his labours exhausting yet exhilarating. Nothing defeated the sleeping secrets. He destroyed the most stubborn infections; he made limbs regenerate; he healed injuries to the brain. Often before, working with needle and thread, sulphur and mercury, cloves and laudanum, he had found himself helpless in the face of trauma or disease. But not now!
The day they were to leave, they were invited to an audience with the Grand Master of Veda – an unusual honour, to say the least, as many of the sages themselves never got to see that worthy. They went with some trepidation; ushered into the Presence, Miphon immediately scanned the Grand Master's mind for evil intent. He was reassured by what he found.
'Greetings,' said the Grand Master.
His tone was grave and formal. That, together with the man's tranquility in repose, reminded Blackwood very much of the Melski. He remembered the day – it seemed very long ago – when he had last met with Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. Being reminded of the Melski brought back painful memories.
'Greetings,' said Miphon, using the High Speech.
Following custom, they then drank mint tea and talked at length about nothing in particular (falconry, the herbal teas of the Ravlish Lands, the comparative merits of the stave bow and the composite bow, rumours about the politics of the Chenameg Kingdom, the trade in sponges and keflo shells, the possible extent of the domination of dragons in the heartland of Argan), and then the Grand Master broached the subject which really interested him: 'Often people become legends in their own time,' said the Grand Master, 'but usually because of a trick of perspective which conjures a mortal man to the stature of a giant. I've met several living legends, but none have impressed me – till now.'
'Many songs praise us, up and down the Salt Road,' said Hearst, 'but a song sings for pleasure, not for truth.'
'One is always wary of rumour,' said the Grand Master, 'but these last ten days have seen miracles happening under my own roof. By miracle, of course, I mean an anomaly for which I have no explanation.'
'All magic is anomalous,' said Miphon. 'Wizards work by producing and controlling an anomaly in the natural order of things.' i know that,' said the Grand Master. 'As does the least of my students. However, I had thought I knew the limits of this power to… to generate anomaly.'
'So your horizons now widen,' said Miphon. indeed. We've always thought only limited power could be achieved by generating anomalies, so we've strived instead to exploit the natural lines of force which support the universe.'
'So I've heard,' said Miphon. 'But your mysteries are beyond me.' i won't try and explain then,' said the Grand Master. 'Suffice it to say that in our days of glory, before the destruction caused by the Long War, we had begun to control both the animate and the inanimate. The legends telling of sages mastering dragons are true. And as for the inamimate, investigation into the force-lines of the universe had shown us that even the air itself holds a potential for power. Before the Long War, we attempted to extract and control that potentiaclass="underline" our efforts generated tremendous thunderstorms, killing many of the experimenters, but we thought our chances of ultimate success were good.'
'So?' said Miphon.
'So here we are, four thousand years after the Long War, only just beginning to recover the power of ages past. It occurs to me that an alliance between the two kinds of power, that to exploit anomalies and that to ex ploit the natural structure of the universe, would open up possibilities that we can only guess at.'
'I will give it my consideration,' said Miphon politely.
Everyone in the room knew that was tantamount to a refusal.
'Don't let the old, old legends about the Days of Wrath influence your thinking. Some say wizards give credence to those legends, but I think of them more as fables than as history.* i will most certainly give the matter my earnest consideration,' said Miphon. 'My way lies south, as you know; mature reflection may, perhaps, convince me to return.'
'As you will.' said the Grand Master.
Again Miphon checked to see no evil was being plotted against the travellers: again he was satisfied. The travellers bowed and left the Presence, returning to their quarters to complete their packing. Shortly after they were finished, a messenger boy called to lead them to the southern gate of Veda, where their convoy had assembled.
Miphon, still unsettled by the meeting with the Grand Master, scanned the messenger boy's mind to reassure himself that, again, everything was in order. As they followed the boy through the luminous tunnel-maze of curving corridors, Miphon pleased himself with the thought that his ability to mind-read, and to alter minds where appropriate, gave him perfect pro: tection against attack.
He was just thinking this when the ambush was sprung.
Miphon woke. He heard footsteps. But that was ridiculous. He was in the green bottle, wasn't he? He glanced at the green glowing walls. Yes, he was definitely in the green bottle. In the confusion of the ambush, finding no magic of his would work, Miphon had turned the ring on his finger to take him into the green bottle. Nobody could have followed him.
Yet he was certain he had heard footsteps.
What could it be then?
Darkly, Miphon imagined hideous evil slouching out from the murky depths of the bottle which he had never dared explore. He clawed for a sword. Hast was that blade. Miphon had snatched the sword Hast even as Hearst, clubbed from behind, had fallen toward the ground.
Again,' footsteps.
And voices, yes: a mutter, a curse, a short laugh, a hissed order silencing someone. Intruders were coming down the stairs. This was no menace from the depths of the bottle: this was invaders from without. Miphon gripped the sword tighter.
His enemies came in sight: grinning soldiers dressed and armed like men of the Secular Arm of Veda. But that was impossible! Miphon had scanned the minds of the headman of the Secular Arm, the Grand Master, and even the messenger boy. Everything had been in order.
'Ho, Mister Wizard,' cried one of the men. 'What's with the sword? Curing pox the sharp way, are we?'
'Keep back!' said Miphon, menacing him. Then: 'How did you get in here?'
'The same way you get up your own bum,' said the man. 'By magic, hey. Now throw down your blade, pox doctor, before your arse has an accident.'