"Mad? Me? What have I to be angry about? Just because your clumsiness nearly got us both killed, that is no reason for me to be angry."
"Okay, my foot slipped. I’m sorry, all right? And in case you hadn’t noticed, I saved your bacon back there."
"And that makes it right?"
"It sure as hell makes it better."
"Sparrow, curing a disease is no excuse for causing it. If you had not been so lead-footed there would have been no need for rescue.
"Bal-Simba has given me the job of saving your worthless carcass. That would be dangerous enough if you were an adult. But you have the mind and manners of a child and that makes it ten times worse. If you do not feel I truly appreciate you, then, again, I am indeed sorry!"
"All right, that’s it!" Wiz shouted and reached over to pick up his pack.
"Just what do you think you’re doing?" Moira demanded.
"Leaving. You don’t want me around? Fine! I’ll make my own way."
"Don’t be a bigger fool than you already are. You wouldn’t last one day out there by yourself."
"Maybe not," Wiz said bitterly, "but it would be better than putting up with you. Lady, I’m sick of you and I’m sick of listening to you run me down. I’m outta here."
"And just where do you plan to go tonight?"
"I don’t care. I’ll find a place." He turned and stalked off.
"Sparrow! Wiz…" Moira dropped her arm. "All right, make a fool of yourself!" she yelled after him. "See if I care," she muttered as she settled on a log by the fire. He’ll be back as soon as he gets over this temper tantrum, she thought. Meanwhile he should be safe enough inside the walls. Oh Bal-Simba, such a task you have given me!
By the light of the rising moon Wiz pushed his way through the brush and weeds that choked the ruined courts and overgrown gardens.
Bitch! He thought. Arrogant, insufferable goddamn bitch! I didn’t ask for all this and I sure as hell didn’t ask for her. She’s done nothing but insult me since I met her. Well, to hell with that, Lady. And the hell with you too!
He went on, stumbling occasionally over loose bits of marble, heedless of the branches that whipped at him. He’d find someplace to camp and then figure out what to do in the morning. It would probably be better to stay inside the walls tonight, he decided. That damn red-headed bitch was probably right about the protective spells and he had had a bellyful of magic already.
At the bottom of a ruined garden someone was playing a flute. The thin, plaintive music caught all the longing and unfulfilled dreams that ever were.
Guided by the bright moonlight, Wiz made his way among the overgrown bushes over the cracked flag path to the sound.
There was a pool there, rank with cattails and dark with lilypads. A broken marble bench lay beside it. On a dark rock overhanging the water sat the flute player, clad only in a pair of rough trousers with long hair down to his shoulders. Wiz listened until he reached the end of his song.
"That was beautiful," Wiz said involuntarily into the silence.
"Did you enjoy it, mortal?" the player asked. As he turned, Wiz realized his mistake.
It was man-sized and man-like, but it was not a man. The face was utterly inhuman with a broad flat nose and huge eyes with no trace of pupil. The hair was a mane, starting low on the forehead and sweeping back to the shoulders. Large pointed ears peeked out of the mane on either side. The trousers were fur, fur that clad the body from the waist to the tiny hoofed feet.
"Uh, yes. I enjoyed it," said Wiz, startled by the creature’s appearance.
"Oh, do not be afraid, mortal. I cannot harm you. I am bound to this well."
"You play beautifully."
"It is the song of heart’s desire." said the creature.
Around the pool, frogs croaked and trilled in crescendo. There must be thousands of them, Wiz thought distractedly, but he could see none of them in the moonlight.
"When Ali Suliman held here… did you know Ali Suliman?" the creature asked. "No? Before your time I fear. A most refined gentleman and a truly great sorcerer. Such a delightful sense of humor. Well, when Ali Suliman had this place things were much different. The palace was ablaze with light and filled with guests. Often Ali Suliman would bring his—special—guests to this pond to hear me play and discourse with me."
The thing sighed gustily and shook its shaggy head. "All is changed, alas. Few mortals come here now and fewer still hear my music."
"I’m sorry," said Wiz, abstractedly.
The being waved its flute in a dismissing gesture.
"The music is not important. It is the desire it represents that matters. The longing, the yearning in the mortal breast." He gazed at Wiz with opalescent eyes. "I can fulfill that desire," it said with utter conviction. "I can give you the one thing you want most. That is what matters."
The hair prickled on the back of Wiz’s neck. The creature was so compelling that Wiz did not doubt for an instant that it could do what it said. In the back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t be here listening to this, but the promise held him.
"Your heart’s desire, mortal," the creature crooned. "Your heart’s desire." The frogs croaked louder.
Wiz licked his lips. "How do I know you can deliver?" he asked.
"Oh, by magic," cackled the being, its pupilless eyes like opals in the moonlight. "By magic."
"What is my heart’s desire?"
"Why a woman, mortal. A woman not far from this very place."
"What do you want in return?"
"Merely a game, mortal. It grows lonely here and time must be passed."
"What kind of game?"
"Why any kind you chose. Would you have a race? Will you wrestle me?"
Neither one sounded like a good idea to Wiz. The furry haunches were powerfully muscled and the thing’s chest was broad and deep.
"No, nothing physical."
"Then something magical?" The creature made a swipe with his hand and left a glittering trail through the night air.
"I—I don’t practice magic," Wiz stammered.
The creature grinned disquietingly. "A pity. A true pity. Well then, what about a game of the mind? The riddle game? Yes, the riddle game."
Like a lot of programmers Wiz took inordinate pride in his problem-solving ability. He firmly believed that any riddle could be solved by a combination of logic and careful examination. Besides, by using truth tables it is possible to construct some mind-boggling riddles, and Wiz had a lot of experience with truth tables.
Wiz licked his lips and found they tasted metallic. The invisible frogs redoubled their croaking.
"All right. I’ll play your riddle game. Who goes first?"
The thing on the rock chuckled, an eerie, burbling sound. "Oh, there is only one riddle in the riddle game, mortal. And I am the one who asks it."
"Oh." That wasn’t the way the game was played as Wiz remembered it, but now he was committed. "Ask then."
The thing on the rock blew a thin airy phrase on its flute and began to sing:
The frogs fell silent in chorus. Wiz racked his brains trying to come up with something that fit. Precious as gold, worthless as dross… Something that was valuable only to one person? Gained without loss? Wiz’s mind ran itself in tight little circles as he tried to imagine what cold possibly fit.