Magic in Ithkar (26 page)

Borg had returned from the tavern quarter at the same time as Driss’s excited homecoming and had heard most of this happy exchange. He maintained his usual phlegmatic expression throughout and shortly after made a second trip to a nearby tavern, returning only just in time for the day’s first performance.

The remaining days before the private showing retained a heavy burden of humidity, and there was a slight chill in the air at night. To encourage a larger attendance Tonya had Driss place half a dozen braziers filled with glowing coals around the edges of the seating area. This helped a bit, but trade was still falling off and Tonya worried about it as she and Driss counted the day’s receipts.

“If this goes on, we may have to find another rich merchant,” she said, “and after ten-day—tomorrow—there will be only a few more days to the end of the fair. We may even have to sell some of the dolls, and I’d almost rather work off the debt in Lord Caum’s castle than do that.”

On the evening of the special performance, which was to take place in the courtyard of Bothro’s estate, the weather was still damp and slightly chill. The children who assembled for the show were bundled up and even the adults wore cloaks or woolen shawls. Borg and Omz appeared only moments before the play was to begin and both had found heavy capes somewhere. Omz looked almost ill. Fortunately the audience was slow in settling down and the dolls were able to make their first appearance without any annoying delay.

Never had the dolls performed as well as for the youngest Bothro’s birthday. Snow Princess was lovely and her enhanced spell allowed her sweet smile to be seen even in the farthest rows. Never had Dragon’s roar been louder or deeper, and Little Dog was so convincingly doglike that he even (quite naturally and unexpectedly) lifted one tiny hind leg at a property gatepost.

The birthday child was entranced and she squirmed forward until her chin was almost on the edge of the stage. She squealed in mock fright each time Dragon snapped his jaws, and in the final battle she implored valiant Prince not to kill him too cruelly. As if in appreciation, Dragon turned toward her for his final roar and, as he did, a huge blue-white cloud of smoke erupted from his open mouth straight into the child’s face.

Her screams were real this time and were followed at once by a violent fit of coughing and a torrent of tears.

What happened next was utter pandemonium. With leonine roars, Mother Bothro charged up and gathered her child to her bosom, than began screaming unladylike imprecations in all directions. Every other child in the audience began to bellow and every parent present added his or her voice to the uproar, some condemning the proprietors of the doll show, some threatening Bothro with the utmost rigors of the fair-court. Driss and Tonya thrust dismayed faces from behind the stage backdrop. Borg made a hasty dash for elsewhere but was quickly brought back by a Bothro footman, who held him firmly by the ear. Vallo, delighted with the event, sent Little Dog capering and barking lustily from one end of the stage to the other. The birthday child divided her time equally between shrieks and fits of coughing.

Mention, here and there, of the fair-court brought Merchant Bothro’s captain of industry side to the fore and he dispatched several servants in search of fair-wards, who promptly appeared and roughly restored order. When the gathering was reasonably quiet, Bothro leveled a shaking finger at Tonya.

“I charge this woman and her crew with the use of unauthorized magic to attack my children and to ruin my reputation with my friends and business associates! Lock them up. They shall appear before the court no later than tomorrow morning to answer for their crimes.”

Madame Bothro, being a practical woman, was the first to regain her poise. “Bothro, dear, I hardly think the court will take up the matter so soon. Besides, I have my seamstress coming in the morning. I shall have to send for a physician to look at Cyndia. There’s no telling what these horrid people have done to her.”

“The court will take up the case when I demand it,” the red-faced Bothro insisted. “I count for something in this country, I’ll have you know. For the rest, send for your physician at once, if you will, and your seamstress will simply have to await your pleasure. Consider our position, woman!”

Locking up the doll show and its personnel was somewhat of a problem with space during the fair at a premium, but it was solved by sending for a temple wizard, who put a restraining spell on everyone and everything, including the ox, Lightning.

Despite Bothro’s self-proclaimed importance, the court would not consent to considering the case until late the following afternoon. Under the spell, which limited their movements to less than three yards from the wagon, the five people (and Lightning, the least concerned) found the unavailability of fresh food and water and the humid overcast weather added considerably to their fears and general discomfort. Tonya’s efforts to get to the bottom of the matter of the cloud of smoke did nothing to clear the air. The obvious suspect in the question of unauthorized spells was, of course, Omz.

“How could you have done this to us?” Tonya demanded. “You certainly must have known that even if you hadn’t blown whatever it was in that wretched child’s face, any magic which wasn’t passed might cost me everything we’ve earned. And, believe me, the earnings are more important to me than you could possibly know. Now why did you?”

“I am, after all, a magician, dear lady. I meant only to add a bit of luster to the performance. If friend Borg hadn’t clumsily turned Dragon in the wrong direction, no harm would have been done.”

There was something strangely wrong in Omz’s expression when he said these words. His dignity for the first time seemed false. Moreover his face was gray and he looked ill. Tonya silently considered him and thoughtfully turned away.

Court was convened at last and wagon and crew were returned to the fairgrounds to be tried there. The case was conducted briskly. Omz was the first to stand before the magistrate.

“You, sir, profess to be a magician?”

“A poor one, noble sir.”

“If so, you are free to practice your trade—within reason, mind you—but surely you must have known that by embellishing a fair attraction with unauthorized magic you put the proprietor of the said attraction in danger of losing both profits and goods? Was this done with malice?”

“Oh, no, sir. Certainly not.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I was carried away by the interest of the play—which is a most excellent one, noble sir.”

“Then, lest you get ’carried away’ in matters more serious, I hereby divest you of any right to practice magic anywhere or for any purpose from this day forward,” the magistrate said sternly. He then turned to Tonya.

“Now then, you, young woman. Stand before me and state your name and condition.”

“Tonya of Clan Sarg, sir. Unwed.”

“Clan Sarg, eh? I had occasion to know your father. A rogue, perhaps, but harmless. Why is he not here?”

“He died in last winter’s great storm, sir.”

“Hmm. I see. He left you his dolls, then. Aught else?”

“His debts, sir, as is the custom.”

“A heavy burden, no doubt. Still, I must deal with you according to the law. Did you hire this . . . this magician with a thought of increasing the attractions of your play? In particular, did you order him to do what Merchant Bothro claims was done? Let me warn you; the court will deal most severely if you lie.”

“I will not lie, sir. I employed Omz not for his magic but for his voice. Most suitable for King, sir, and even beautiful for other of my doll characters.” As she said this she looked as kindly as she was able at Omz, but the old man would not meet her eye.

“Very well. I will now question you, valet. What is your name, man?”

While the magistrate was interrogating Borg, Tonya retired to the shadow of the wagon and joined Driss and her brother, Vallo. Omz stood some distance apart. Tonya examined the old man speculatively.

“Driss,” she whispered, “I do believe Omz is relieved that he can no longer claim magicianship. None of his spells have ever worked.”

“Except the one that got us in trouble,” Driss said.

“I’m not sure he worked that one,” Tonya replied.

“Who, then? Borg?”

“No. I think no one. I think there was no spell at all, but just a trick. A well-meaning one, perhaps. If I can make Omz admit that he can do no spells and that none was done, we are saved.”

“You can’t. Remember the warning against lies.”

“I think—I know I can. Vallo, get me Dragon’s horn. Quickly, now. Twist it off the knob on his nose. Be careful not to break the thin walls.”

Vallo did as he was instructed and Tonya gave him two coppers, one of her little handkerchiefs, and sent him off to the sweetmeat seller with a warning to run as fast as his legs would carry him. He returned, panting, just as the magistrate released Borg, and handed Dragon’s horn to his sister. Tonya wiped the horn on the hem of her skirt and stepped up to face the magistrate.

“Noble sir!” she said.

“What is it, child?”

“What is the punishment for him who lies to the court?”

“It varies from a sound whipping to being hanged up by the thumbs for a day. Why? Have you lied?”

“No, sir. But I believe I have discovered one who has. May I question the magician—former magician, I mean— Omz?”

“You may, but I warn you, I’ll not permit pointless squabbling. Come forward, Omz.”

“I am no liar, honored sir,” said Omz, his chin (a slightly trembling chin) held defiantly.

“That we shall see. Come forward. You may now proceed, Tonya of Sarg.”

Tonya rubbed the horn on her skirt, then held it under Omz’s nose. “You have heard us talk of the importance of Dragon’s horn, have you not? What you have perhaps not heard is that when my father first placed it on Dragon’s nose, he said, ’Our Dragon now has a nose for lies. If we are endangered by any lie, his horn will break out in a cold sweat.’ Answer this, now: Did you produce that puff of smoke by one of your spells?”

Omz cast an anxious glance at the magistrate.

“I did. Yes. It was a very small and simple spell, Tonya, noble sir. I meant no harm.”

Tonya held the horn close to the old man for a long moment, then turned and showed it to the magistrate and again to Omz. The smooth ivory of the horn was beaded with tiny drops of moisture. “What you did, Omz, was not magic at all, but a trick, was it not? Beware a second lie!”

“It was a trick,” Omz said in a low, trembling voice. “Borg showed me how to do it. He said it would convince you that I really was a magician and that you would be pleased. He gave me this hollow reed with bits of leaf in it that he got from a sailor. He put a small coal to one end and I was to suck on the reed, then blow through the hole that makes Dragon’s tongue flutter. It made me quite ill.”

At almost the first words of this confession, Borg made a dash for freedom but was quickly brought back by a fair-ward. More questions were put, Dragon’s horn was shaken under Borg’s nose as well, and the whole story came out.

Borg was in Lord Caum’s employ. He knew that if Tonya could not repay to Caum her father’s drinking and gaming debts, Tonya would become the lord’s slave—and more. Lord Caum had promised him, Borg, ten silver pieces if he would help to bring this state of affairs about. Therefore, in Borg’s eyes at least, Lord Caum was to blame and he, Borg, should not be punished. The noble magistrate retired to his tent for a few minutes to consider this wealth of evidence. When he returned he lined up all parties, including Bothro and his spouse, before him.

“Merchant Bothro,” he said. “Is your daughter iH or has she suffered aught but a small fright?” He cast a pointed look at the horn which Tonya still held by her side.

“No, noble sir, but—”

“Enough. Tonya of Sarg shall reduce her price for the entertainment by one silver piece for this small mishap.”

“But ... but ... but ...” Bothro was becoming very red. His wife pulled at his sleeve. “Let be, Bothro,” she said. “You’ll only make yourself ridiculous. Consider our position!”

The magistrate waved them both away and pointed a finger at Omz.

“You, sirrah, have been relieved of magic that you never had. As further punishment for a lie before this court you are sentenced to one year of domestic service to Mistress Tonya of Sarg. How say you?”

“Thank you, most noble sir!”

“Hmp! I thought you might. Now you, Master Borg ...” The glare the magistrate fixed on the unfortunate valet was much more severe. “Yours shall be the task of informing your master, the good Lord Caum, that his claim on the debts of Clan Sarg has been declared null and void because of the manner in which he has tried to collect. If I do not hear that you have done so before this month is out, you shall have twenty stout lashes. How say you?”

“Pity, noble sir!” Borg whined. “Lord Caum is a fearful hard man!”

“I had guessed as much. Be off with you.” The magistrate now turned to Tonya.

“As you are no doubt aware, the court cannot hold you for magic which was naught but a trick. Your debts are canceled, your goods are your own, the money you have earned has no liens against it but the appetite of this small boy, your brother, who seems to be continually eating something.”

“May we go, then?”

“No, you may not. You have performed unauthorized magic yourself before this very court! What did you expect I might do about that?”

“Why, nothing, Your Excellency.”

“Well! Impudent as you are pretty! Did I not see you cause a bit of ivory to sweat when lies were told?”

“Yes, Excellence, but not by magic or spells.”

“How then? And take care of lies yourself.”

Tonya upended Dragon’s horn, pulled out the handkerchief that had plugged it, and a thin, sticky pink liquid drained out of it. “You see, sir, it is only a pink ice which Vallo bought from the sweetmeats stall. So cold is it that, in this weather, dew forms on its container just as it forms on grass in the morning. See, I wipe it dry and hold it before you and even now it perspires. Surely you have told me no lies?”

His Excellency the noble magistrate, the powerful fair-judge, was silent for two heartbeats, then blasted forth such roars of laughter that several fair-wards came running to see what the commotion might be. When at last his mirth was under control, he wiped his eyes and told Tonya, Driss, Vallo, and Omz that they might go.