The Secular Wizard - Wis in Rhyme - 4 (54 page)

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Authors: Christopher Stasheff

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BOOK: The Secular Wizard - Wis in Rhyme - 4
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Boncorro scowled down at them for a very long minute. Then he said, "I thank you, scholar. I shall keep the throne-but you may not have your life of peace, for I require your services and your advice. Rebozo has betrayed me three times over. He shall die for that. You shall be my new chancellor." Then he turned, raising his knife to execute the sentence.

"No, my son!" cried the ghost. "Do not send him to Hell! Let him confess his sins, let him repent!"

Boncorro hesitated, the dagger poised. "it is foolish to loose a snake to strike at your heel, my father."

"Do not loose him! Find him a priest this very day, let him confess, then behead him and burn his body! But do not burden your soul with his damnation!"

"This is not prudent," Boncorro said.

"The way of virtue is frequently imprudent, but always wise!

Do this for me, my son-though I know I do not deserve it of you!"

"You deserve it ten times over." Boncorro sheathed his knife.

"Your desertion does not outweigh ten years of love and care of a very small child. He shall have his chance for Heaven." He gestured, shouting a quick verse, and the snake dwindled, tunting into iron, and clanking hard about Rebozo's wrists and ankles as fetters and chains. But Rebozo had been given the respite he had needed to recover. With one quick motion he stooped and caught up his staff, crying,

"Now, all my old henchmen! Strike, or know your doom! Smite this princeling, or die at the stake!"

Then he shouted an unintelligible phrase, snapping the staff out toward Boncorro-and the snake reappeared, coiling up about the king. Sir Guy shouted, "Havoc!" and sprang up on the dais, his sword whirling toward the serpent's head. Boncorro saw him and ignored the reptile, gesturing and shouting his own rhyme ...

But his shout was answered by fifty others, as courtiers stepped for-ward, slipping wands from their sleeves and chanting verses in the archaic language@yen as a fiery monster appeared between Rebozo and the king, blasting Boncorro with its fire as the traitor leaped astride the creature his magic had called. But flame met a thousand glinting points that rushed toward Rebozo, and caught the monster instead. It screamed with rage, thrashing in pain, but leaped at the king ... And a score of other monsters, lamias, gorgons, and nightmares of horn and sting and teeth, screamed in delight and converged on Matt and his friends, while another score rushed toward Boncorro. Saul spread his hands, shouting, "Oij sont les neiges d'antan?

Les laissez-les faire ces monstres Devienent froids, gel@s et durs!"

Matt shouted out,

"Into the cradle, endlessly rocking, Go the horrible creatures immediately flocking!

Bars o'er those cradles are instantly locking!" Half of the monsters slowed, halted, and stood frozen; the others shrank down, their shrieks of dismay rising up the scale as cradles appeared behind them. They fell backward and in; iron grids clashed shut over the tops of the cradles, holding them in.

But other sorcerers were shouting other verses, and fires sprang up all about them. The ceiling rained knives and swords, the floor sprouted vipers and scorpions. Matt and Saul spun about and about, trying to quell one horror after another, yanking out verses in a very eclectic blend of classic poetry and TV commercials. Cans of insectici appeared about them, sprinkling death on the vermin; fire extinguishers sprang into existence to combat the flames; giant steel umbrellas sent the cutlery cascading. But they were on the defensive, scarcely managing to keep up; the sorcerers definitely had the initiative. on the dais, Boncorro was whirling, shouting verses in old tongues and new, sweat running down his face as he countered one nightmare form after another. He made his floor turn from mire back into solid stone, and set up dozens of shields and swords to parry and fence those weapons that Rebozo brought into existence.

Meanwhile, Sir Guy was manfully battering at Rebozo's steed, taking its blasts of fire on a shield that magically dispersed the creature's flames instead of conducting them. Sir Guy was singed and cut in three

Places on his face, but the monster was bleeding flame from a dozen, screaming in rage and frustration, for the knight danced about it, never in one place long enough to bite-and, worse, be was singing!

"Ran! Tan! Terre et ciel!

Terre et Cie], et sang vermeil!

Ran! Tan! Terre et ciel!

Bois le yin gaulois!

It was magic all his own, warrior's magic, and the courtiers who weren't wizards paused in their pressing back toward the doorways, heads coming up, wide-eyed.

Matt took his cue.

"Allons, enfants de la patrie!

Le your de gloire est arrive!

Con tre nous de la ty-rannie!

L'@tandard sanglant est levg!

L'@tandard sanglant est levg!

Entendez-vous, dans la carnpagne, Mugir, ces f@roces soldats, Qui vienent jusque dans nos bras!

Egorgez nosflls, nos compagnes!

Aux armes, rnes citoyens!

Forrnez vos bataillons!

Marchons, rnarchons, quand le sang irnpur Abieuve nos sillons!" It wasn't their language, but the words worked anyway, and the zeal imparted by the song. With a massive shout, the courtiers turned on the sorcercers, who turned to blast them ...

A maddened yowl broke from the archway, and the manticore sprang in, fur bristling. It flew into the sorcerers, double jaws closing on one alter another and tossing them aside. The remaining sorcerers screamed with fear and shrank back-but, unfortunately, so did the rest of the courtiers.

Then a massed shout thundered from the archway, overriding the noise from within, and a hundred knights strode into the throne room, swords mincing the sorcerers' monsters and cutting a way through to the sorcerers themselves. Behind them a goldenhaired fury strode, a golden circlet about her helmet, shouting in rage, "Slay the fouj fiends who would imperil my love! Rally to the Lord Wizard, to the Witch Doctor, and to the Black Knight!"

Behind her, Stegoman's huge head shot in through the door, A dozen sorcerers shouted and sprang to block his way, wands swirling, but the dragon roared in fury, and the sorcerers howled and fell, rolling in flames. Unarmed courtiers sprang aside, and the dragon charged toward the dais as hundreds of men-at-arms came running into the throne room to strike the sorcerers down.

Rebozo's monster saw Stegoman and sprang to meet him with a howl like a siren. The dragon roared in answer, and flame blasted flame. But behind them King Boncorro, undistracted now, turned on his traitorous chancellor and wove an unseen net in the air as he sang. Rebozo shouted in alarm, flourishing his staff and shrieking a verse-but before he could finish it, ruddy flames blasted up about him, freezing him in agony, and for one brief instant a dark horned form seemed to loom behind him before the flames abruptly ceased, leaving only a pile of ashes.

The fiery monster disappeared at the same instant, leaving only a fading shriek behind it-and every sorcerer in the hall screamed in pain, back arching, and fell rolling to the floor in agony. Sir Guy lowered his sword, panting, and told the kin& "Well struck, Your Majesty!"

"But I did not," Boncorro panted, staring at the heap of ashes with widened eyes. "My spell only inspired the agony of my traitorous courtiers! The flame that took him, that was not mine!" "Even so," Sir Guy said grimly.

"When the queen's army burst in, the end was clear, and the Devil gave his old punishment for failure." "Queen Alisande?" Boncorro looked up and saw the blond avenging angel wrapped in the arms of the Lord Wizard, who broke off murmuring endearments long enough to say,

"You know, there's some-thing to be said for an army."

"Yes, and I thank your Majesty for its use." King Boncorro looked up at the ghost, who stood staring down at the carnage, aghast. "Mercy to so depraved a soul as that is unwise."

"No," the spirit muttered, shaking its head in denial.

"It is always right, always! And a king must always do what is right!" But Boncorro shook his head. "I think that there are times when a king must do what is prudent insteadand you must forgive me, my father, but on this Earth, I am called to be a king, not a saint." Matt and King Boncorro lingered unobtrusively in the doorway of the twenty-by-twenty studio, watching the sculptor at work in the light from the wide northern windows. After a little while, Matt moved onward, beckoning to the king, who nodded and followed. When they were away from the door, Boncorro said, low-voiced, "His progress is amazing! And you say Arouetto has given him only a very little criticism and suggestion this past fortnight?"

"Only a little," Matt confirmed, "but the kid paid attention. He respects Arouctto, you see."

"Even though our scholar admits he is no sculptor?"

"No-because he admits he is no sculptor. But he does claim to be a connoisseur, and no one disputes it. At least, not twice-though whether that's because they're dazzled by his arguments, or just don't want to sit through another hour of his explaining the merits of varied-ous paintings and statues, I don't know."

At another doorway, they paused to watch several painters at work; at a third to watch a string quartet practicing; and a fourth time to watch singers rehearsing an opera. As they went on, Matt said,

"Arouetto even has hopes of persuading the actors from the market-place to try performing a script one of his students is writing. It will take some doing, convincing them to memorize lines instead of making it up from a scenario as they go along, but I think he might manage it."

"He is a most persuasive man," Boncorro admitted.

"He is," Matt agreed. "I'm amazed that he manages to stop persuading when he's teaching ... here."

They paused in another doorway to see Arouetto sitting in a circle with the young men and women from Escribo's farm, discussing an issue with great earnestness.

"But there is as much sense in seeing the world as divided into male and female principles, as in seeing it divided into Good and Evil!" Escribo maintained.

"Nonsense!" cried Lelio. "There is good in the world, and there is evil! Our teacher's recent victory is reason enough to believe that!" "No one denies it," Berylla replied. "It is a question of which is greater, that is all."

Lelio stared. "Do you say that the female principle can be greater than Good?"

"No-that it can exist within the principle of Good!" She turned to Arouetto. "Could that not be valid?"

"Perhaps," Arouetto said, "if you remember that, in the Far East-em dualism, Good proceeds from male and female existing in hal-ance and Evil springs from one or the other being too prominent."

"Evil being a lack of balance, and Good being balance?" One of the girls looked up sharply. "That has a familiar ring! The Greeks?" 353 Arouetto nodded, visibly restraining his

glee.

"Flaminia, you seem to remember the quotation."

" 'Moderation in all things,' " Flaminia said, eyes wide in sudden understanding, "including moderation!"

"That is it," Arouetto said. "But tell me, could there be any connection between that principle and the motto, 'Know thyself'?"

"Far more than a motto, teacher! " another youth objected. "It is indeed." Arouetto's eyes shone. "But how do you see that, Arno? " As Amo began to answer, Pascal's head suddenly snapped up, his eyes widening in amazement. He thrust himself to his feet and strode off to a writing desk in a corner, where he began to scribble furiously.

"Thus the poet gains inspiration," Boncorro murmured, shaking his head in wonder. "This is something I can never truly understand, Lord Wizard!"

"That's all right, your Majesty-for all their talk about it, none of them can really understand the ordering of a state." Matt turned away, beckoning Boncorro out of earshot. "A few other scholars have already begun to hear of this villa and have come to talk and teach-in just two weeks! One is teaching rhetoric, another is teaching logic, and a third is teaching mathematics and music."

"An odd combination."

"No, he's the Pythagorean in the bunch. I'm trying to get him to tell me about Pythagoras' ideas about magic, but he claims the mystic master didn't believe in the stuff-he just taught how the world worked and the parts interacted."

"But if you understand that, you can work out ways to make wonders happen!"

"He doesn't realize that, fortunately. The man's a genius, but I don't think he has very good judgment." He glanced back at Arou-etto.

"I don't think your new chancellor is doing a very good job in government."

"He has already tried to resign, but I persuaded him to be chancellor only of this new center of study. He is ambitious; he hopes to build a community of scholars who will, together, pursue all human knowledge.

"Is he going to call it a 'university'?"

"If you mention the word, I am sure he will adopt it. Still, he is generous in his advice, when I ask it-and I have begun to select other men to do the work of the state. But I shall never again give any one man such broad powers as I entrusted to Rebozo-so Arouetto shall keep the title of chancellor, and I shall develop others for the men who do the work of government."

"Wise policy. You have very good judgment, your Majesty."

"I appreciate the praise, Lord Wizard." But Matt could see the young king brace himself against flattery.

"Well, I'm glad you accepted my challenge and watched Arouetto teach, at least-and even gladder that you seized upon the idea of bringing them all into the castle without my having to mention it."

"Which, I am sure, you would have-but there was so much value evident in the idea, that even I could not blind myself to it." Boncorro smiled. "Already, the noblemen have begun to take artists into their households, and their wives have begun to invite scholars to their social gatherings. There is a positive stampede to catch a tame poet!"

"Which means there will be a lot of charlatans showing up, very fast. Might I encourage your Majesty to test very thoroughly anyone claiming to be cultured?"

"Wise advice." Boncorro didn't say he had already thought of it-he only said, "I must become as much a connoisseur as Arouetto-but I think the becoming will be a joy, and an excellent means to rest and refresh my spirit after a day of intrigue and striving."

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