Princess of Dhagabad, The (18 page)

Desperately pushing forward through the thick
mass of people, you finally pop out into the open and stand alone
in the empty space in front of the pentagram. Galeot-din, pale with
anger, slowly turns his face to look straight at you.

“
What are you doing here, Hasan?” he asks.
“Did you, bookworm, come to challenge my place as the court mage?
If that is so, you have to wait your turn.”

Keeping your eyes on Galeot-din, you again
direct your feelings toward the woman and sense that her fright is
giving way to a faint glimmer of hope. The woman is proud and
angry—she would rather die than admit that she is wrong. But her
magic is strong enough for her to know she cannot equal the power
of the Dimeshqian court mage. There is no way for her to get out of
this duel alive and well. The sudden intervention of this confident
stranger, who in spite of his apparent youth emanates wisdom and
power, is her only hope.

“
I am not after your title, Galeot-din,”
you say. “It just seems to me that this woman is new in Dimeshq and
may not be familiar with all the rules of a magic duel. And you
wouldn’t want to win without rules, would you, Galeot-din?”

By the laws of Dimeshq, one who wins the
magic duel without rules loses his title as a mage and is thrown
out of the city with shame. There is nothing more feared by wizards
than to be accused of dishonesty in a magic duel. Even now, at your
unexpected words, the crowd stirs in shock.

Galeot-din angrily straightens up.

“
No one has ever accused me of fighting
without rules!” he storms. “If you, Hasan the Bookworm, dare to
throw such an accusation into my face before all these respectable
citizens, I will fight you immediately!”

“
On one condition, Galeot-din,” you say.
“If I accept your challenge, you will leave this woman
alone.”

“
This woman gravely insulted me!” the
court mage announces. “No one has ever insulted the great
Galeot-din without paying for it!”

“
I am taking her words upon myself,” you
say. “Let me resolve both arguments with our duel.”

Galeot-din pauses, sizing up his two
opponents, and you easily read his thoughts. On one hand, the woman
would definitely make an easier target for his flashy magic. He
could strike her down with one blow and let the people of Dimeshq
fear and respect him even more. But on the other hand, Hasan, the
mysterious ageless sage buried in his studies for as long as
Galeot-din can remember, the wizard openly mocked as a bookworm and
secretly feared for his unknown powers, presents an outstanding
challenge. Defeating Hasan in a magic duel would bring him glory
among the wise, among the ancient sages of the royal council that
have great influence over the young sultan. Besides, this common
bookworm dared to question the honesty of the great Galeot-din in
front of half the people of Dimeshq. Such a crime cannot go
unpunished! No one has ever questioned the great court mage!

“
I accept!” Galeot-din proclaims.

You jump onto the platform and reach the
woman in just a few strides. Her mask of proud anger can fool no
one. The woman’s every nerve is strained, and her deadly strain
gradually eases at the sight of her protector, who might, she
feels, possess a hidden power stronger even than that of the great
Galeot-din.

The woman does not say a word. She slightly
squeezes your arm, and with her touch you feel a charge flow
through your body. A fleeting smile flashes in her narrow green
eyes as she steps to the side of the platform, clearing a space for
the magic duel.

Sounds on the plaza have ceased. No one
exists in the world except your opponent, with his black velvet
cloak streaming down his back, his fiery eyes shining in his face,
pale with anger. You haven’t demonstrated your art before a crowd
in a long while—you left your vanity behind a couple of centuries
ago. You are now known in Dimeshq as a book-learned sage who has
somehow managed to overcome time. You feel strange standing on the
pentagram above the crowd, facing the famous Dimeshqian mage who is
poised to strike you to dead.

Spells that you know so well but keep hidden
away in a distant corner of your memory slowly come to mind. You
feel, rather than see, the black figure an the other end of the
pentagram raise his arms. Fiery blasts of lightning stream from his
palms, ready to turn you to ashes. You move even before you can
think, your hand shoots forward, words form themselves upon your
lips, and the lightning, breaking against an invisible wall, falls
down in a rain of sparks.

Your senses of vision, touch, smell, and
hearing give way to a new kind of perception, much sharper than any
of the human senses. You can now guess the intentions of your
opponent much earlier than any of your four senses could have
warned you. You perceive Galeot-din speaking the incantation of
water, and you break his spell before the giant wave that he has
called upon can rise above the motionless crowd. The wind created
by your opponent only touches you slightly, throwing back a strand
of your unruly hair. A stone avalanche falling on you from the sky
ends up in a pile of sand at your feet. And then, finally, you see
fear in Galeot-din’s shining eyes. His upraised arms pause in
midair, slow to choose his next gesture. The haughty mage realizes
that your magic power, the limits of which you, buried in your
books, could never guess, exceeds anything the great Galeot-din has
ever seen. Using this moment of delay, looking with the slightest
sarcasm into his fiery, frightened eyes, you utter, unheard by the
crowd, a single word. A wave of power, sweeping past you, raises
your hair and blows around the folds of your robes. The black
velvet cloak of the court mage, torn off in the enormous blast,
flies above the crowd like a pair of giant wings. Galeot-din
suddenly seems very small as he shakes under the blow of a
superhuman power. He falls backward, his head toward the farthest
corner of the pentagram, and lies there in deadly stillness.

You gradually start hearing sounds again.
First, the humming and rumble of the terrified crowd. Then the
sound of the breeze that rustles the black clothes on the
motionless mage, lying outstretched on the stone platform. You
start feeling your body, pleasantly warmed up and heavy as if after
a long journey on foot. You move your arms, shaking off the
stiffness and making sure that you are still in full command of
your limbs. Carefully setting foot after unsteady foot on the stone
platform that seems strangely hard, as if it had gained additional
firmness during the duel, you approach your defeated opponent.

Galeot-din’s face has lost all trace of
color. His eyes are wide open, and for a moment you see in their
bottomless blackness the reflection of the blue sky and scarce
spring clouds. Looking closer, you notice a movement in his eyes, a
sign of life. You sink to the ground by his side, greatly relieved.
You never intended to kill anyone, although death is the most
common end to the many magic duels that have been waged on this
very pentagram. All you wanted was to make sure that another,
unfair death would not happen here today before your very eyes.

Subconsciously remembering the necessary
spell, you move your hand over his pale lifeless face,
concentrating at your fingertips the pulsing energy of life. Some
color returns to Galeot-din’s cheeks, his eyes roll toward you, and
you see fright and hatred in their black depth. He speaks in a
hoarse voice.

“
You are stronger than I, Hasan the
Bookworm.”

“
It seems that I am, court mage.”

“
The title is rightfully yours, Hasan. You
earned it in an honest battle.”

“
Don’t be foolish, Galeot-din. I don’t
want your title. We have our own, separate ways that will never
cross again.”

“
How can I remain here, in Dimeshq, where
so many people saw my shameful defeat? It would be better if you
kill me, Hasan.”

“
Your title does not mean you must be the
best mage in the world, Galeot-din. You know your trade well. And
this duel may teach you not to diminish the powers of
others.”

“
This woman – it is all her
fault!”

“
Remember the condition of our duel,
Galeot-din. You promised to leave her alone.”

“
But—what made you stand up for her,
Hasan?”

“
We both know you would have killed her,
Galeot-din. I cannot abide a senseless death. Our duel is over only
if you give me your word never to bother this woman again.”

Galeot-din lets out a grim laugh.

“
I am not in a position to refuse, Hasan.
You were more than generous with me.”

Smiling, you help the court mage to his feet.
And, gently supporting him, you watch the woman you saved walk
toward you along a diagonal line on the giant pentagram.

“
I thank you, stranger,” she says in a
rich melodious voice, holding out her hand to you. And again a
thrill goes through your body at her touch, and the feelings that
you considered long forgotten, asleep somewhere deep inside you,
make you shiver.

“
His name is Hasan,” Galeot-din says
helpfully.

“
Will you see me home, Hasan?” the woman
asks, and a deep fire sparks inside her narrow eyes. It is not the
fear of walking alone that makes her ask you. For a moment you feel
your mind clouding, defeated by a magic far older than any wisdom
you ever learned. You take her hand and let her lead you to the
unknown.

The crowd backs off in fear, leaving a wide
passage before you, allowing you to move through the bazaar with
unbelievable speed, making your meeting with the sweet mysterious
future swift and sure like the stroke of a dagger. Moving away from
the plaza, gradually submitting to her piercing touch, you realize
that the magic power that kept quietly growing inside you in the
still solitude of the libraries, growing without your noticing it,
has finally outgrown anything you have ever seen or heard, and that
from someone mocked as a bookworm you have gradually transformed
into the greatest mage.

The princess cries out in her sleep as if
pushing someone away, and a tear from under her eyelid runs down
her pale cheek. Awakening from your thoughts, you softly place your
hand on her brow, and her breath becomes even again, a smile
appears on her lips, and the tear dries without a trace. With
gladness, you feel a great peace and purity emanating from this
sleeping child; and it gradually encloses you, quieting your
ancient, restless, all-knowing spirit. You pause, hesitant to
remove your hand from her brow, enjoying with all your being a
long-forgotten feeling of peace.

 
PART II.

 
AWAKENING

Chapter 10. New Bride

The midday sun shines with unbearable
brightness, making the sand covering the riding arena at the back
of the palace look blindingly white, with the deep shadow of the
palace gallery falling upon it darker than night. Narrowing her
eyes against the glare, the sultaness is walking along the edge of
the shade accompanied by Nimeth, Zulbagad, and the princess’s Nanny
Fatima, a tiny, fragile woman with huge, sad eyes.

“The princess wanted very much for you to
wait here, your majesty,” Fatima says in her soft voice. “She
wanted you to see how well she has learned to ride.”

“I am worried about her lessons,” the
sultaness says anxiously. “The princess is too delicate for
horseback riding.”

“I heard that her horse is one of the
gentlest in the whole stable,” Nimeth says with her usual calmness.
“Besides, you know how you always exaggerate the princess’s
weakness. She is no less capable of riding than other
fifteen-year-old girls.”

“After all, she is old enough to be a bride,”
Zulbagad agrees. “You shouldn’t keep thinking of her as a
child.”