Magician (75 page)

He took a last look around, finding the
grim view of the storm-tossed lake and the shuttered windows of the
towers somehow satisfying. He strove to capture this image, as if to
ensure that he would forever remember the moment he came to his full
awakening as a Great One, for there were no more blocks on his
memory, or his emotions. He exulted in his power: no longer Pug the
keep boy, but now a magician of power to dwarf the imagination of his
former master, Kulgan. And never again would either of these worlds,
Midkemia or Kelewan, seem the same to him.

By force of will he descended to the
roof, floating gently through the raging wind. The door opened in
anticipation of his coming. He entered, and it closed behind him.
Shimone was waiting for him, a smile upon his face. As they moved
down the long halls of the Assembly building-city, the skies outside
exploded with clashes of thunder, as if heralding his arrival.

Hochopepa sat upon his mat, awaiting
the arrival of his guest. The heavy, bald magician was interested in
gauging the mettle of the newest member of the Assembly, come into
his estate as a wearer of the black robe the previous day.

A chime sounded, announcing his guest’s
arrival. Hochopepa stood and crossed his richly furnished apartment.
He pulled aside the sliding door “Welcome, Milamber I am
pleased you saw fit to accept my invitation.”

“I am honored,” was all
Milamber said as he entered and regarded the room. Of all the
quarters in the Assembly building he had seen, this was by far the
most opulent. The hangings on the walls were rich cloth, enhanced
with the finest threadwork, and there were several valuable metal
objects adorning various shelves.

Milamber made a study of his host as
well. The heavyset magician showed Milamber to a cushion before a low
table and then poured cups of chocha. His plump hands moved with
controlled ease, precisely and efficiently. His dark, nearly black,
eyes shone from under the thick brows that accented an otherwise
deceptively bland face. He was the stockiest magician Milamber had
seen yet, as most who wore the black robe tended to be thin and
ascetic looking. Milamber sensed this was largely by design, as if
someone occupied with the pleasures of the flesh couldn’t be
too concerned with matters of deep thought.

After the first sip of chocha had been
taken, Hochopepa said, “You pose something of a problem for me,
Milamber.”

When Milamber made no comment,
Hochopepa said, “You make no remark.” Milamber inclined
his head in agreement. “Perhaps your background accounts for a
bit more wariness than is the rule here.”

Milamber said, “A slave become
magician is something to ponder.”

Hochopepa waved his hand. “It is
a rarity for a slave to don the black robe, but not unheard of.
Occasionally the power is not recognized until adulthood. But the
laws are explicit, and no matter how late the power is revealed, nor
how mean the station of the man manifesting it, from that instant on
he is subject only to the Assembly. Once a soldier was ordered hanged
by his lord. He floated, suspended in space, a scant hair’s
breadth from hanging, by sheer power of will. His power finally
manifested itself at the moment of his greatest need. He was given
over to the Assembly, where he survived training, but proved to be a
magician of indifferent power and overall poor outlook.

“But that is not for this
discussion. Your particular situation, the one that makes you
somewhat of a problem for me, is that you are a barbarian—excuse
me, were a barbarian.”

Milamber smiled again. He had left the
Tower of Testing with all his memories of his life, though much about
his training was still sketchy. He understood the processes that had
been used to bring him into control of his magic. They had singled
him out as one among a hundred thousand, a Great One. Of the two
hundred million people of the Empire, he was one of two thousand
magicians of the black robe. His slave-bred wariness, as Hochopepa
pointed out, combined with his intelligence to keep him silent.
Hochopepa was trying to make a point, and Milamber would wait to hear
what it was, no matter how roundabout the stout magician insisted on
being.

When Milamber said nothing, Hochopepa
continued. “Your position is strange for several reasons. The
obvious one is that you are the first to wear the black who is not of
this world. The second is that you were the apprentice of a Lesser
Magician.”

Milamber raised an eyebrow. “Kulgan?
You know of my training?”

Hochopepa laughed, a genuine belly
laugh, which made Milamber relax his guard a little and regard the
other man with a little less distrust. “Of course. There was
not one aspect of your background that was not closely examined, for
you provided a wealth of information about your world.”
Hochopepa looked closely at his guest. “The Warlord might
choose to launch an invasion into a world we know little about—over
the objections of some of his magician advisers, I might add—but
we of the Assembly prefer to study our adversaries. We were most
relieved to learn magic is restricted to the province of priests and
followers of the Lesser Path on your world.”

“Again you mention a Lesser
Magic. What is your meaning?”

It was Hochopepa’s turn to look
slightly surprised. “I assumed you knew.” Milamber shook
his head. “The Path of Lesser Magic is walked by some who can
operate certain forces by power of will, though of a different order
than we of the black robe.”

“Then you know of my previous
failure.”

Hochopepa laughed again “Yes. Had
you been less suited to the Greater Path, you might have learned his
ways. As it is, you had too much ability to have succeeded as a
Lesser Path magician. It is a talent rather than an art, the Lesser
Path. The Greater Path is for scholars.”

Milamber nodded. Each time Hochopepa
explained a concept, it was as if Milamber had known it all his life.
He remarked on this.

“It is easy enough to understand.
During your training many facts and concepts were taught you. The
basic concepts of magic were taught early, your responsibility to the
Empire later. Part of the process of bringing all your abilities to
maturity requires that all these facts be there when you need them.
But much of what you were taught was also masked, to be revealed when
you needed it, when you could fully understand what was in your mind.
There will be a period when thoughts will come unbidden from time to
time. As you frame a question, the answer will appear in your mind.
And sometimes an answer will come as you read it or hear it. It
serves to keep you from reeling under the impact of years of learning
coming upon you in an instant.

“It is not unlike the spells used
to grant you the visions on the Tower of Testing. Obviously, we have
no means to ‘see’ what occurred before the time of the
bridge, or at any other time in history, but we can plant
suggestions, create illusion—”

Things are not what they seem
.
Milamber barely hid his surprise at this unexpected voice in his mind
“—and provide a construct around which you may add the
images most significant to you. Personally, I find the entire
presentation upon the Tower reeks of Grand Dö Opera. You may
avail yourself of the libraries should you seek history rather than
theater.” Seeing Milamber’s attentions were elsewhere,
Hochopepa said, “In any event, we were speaking of other
things.”

Milamber said, “I would hear of
your problem.”

Hochopepa adjusted his robe, smoothing
the creases. “Indulge me a moment longer for a brief
digression. It all has bearing on why I asked you here.”
Milamber signified that Hochopepa should continue.

“Little is known of our peoples
before the Escape. We know that the nations came from many different
worlds. There is also some speculation that others fled the Enemy to
different worlds, your former homeworld among them perhaps. There are
a few shreds of evidence to support that hypothesis, but it is only
conjecture at this point.” Milamber thought about the games of
shäh he had played with the Lord of the Shinzawai and considered
the possibility.

“We came as refugees. Of
millions, only thousands survived to plant seeds here. We found this
world old and used up. Great civilizations once flourished here, and
all that is left of them are worn, smooth stones where once cities
stood. Who these creatures were, no one knows This world has few
metals, and what was brought with us in the Escape wore away over the
ages. Our animals, like your horses and cattle, died out, all save
for dogs. We had to adjust to our new homeworld, and to each other.

“We fought many wars between the
time of the Escape and the advent of the Stranger. We were little
more than city-states until the Battle of a Thousand Ships. Then the
humblest of the races, the Tsurani, rose to conquer all others,
uniting most of this world in a single Empire.

“We of the Assembly support the
Empire because on this world it is the single most powerful force for
order—not because it is noble, or fair, or beautiful, or just.
But because of it the majority of humanity can live and work without
war in their homelands, can live without famine, plagues, and the
other disasters of older times. And with this order around us, we of
the Assembly can work unhindered.

“It was the attempt to dispel the
Stranger that first made it apparent that we must be able to work
unhindered by anyone, including the Emperor, with whatever resources
are necessary. We were robbed of precious time for action by the
Emperor’s lack of cooperation when we first learned of the
Stranger. Had we been given support at once, we might have been able
to deal with the Enemy when it acted to warp the rift. That is why we
accepted the charge to defend and serve the Empire, in exchange for
total freedom.”

Milamber said, “This is all
apparent as you speak of it. I am still waiting to hear of your
problem regarding me.”

Hochopepa sighed. “In good time,
my friend. I must finish one last thought. You must understand why
the Assembly functions as it does to have any hope of surviving more
than a few weeks.”

Milamber looked openly surprised at
this remark. “Survive?”

“Yes, Milamber, survive, for
there are many here who would have seen you at the bottom of the lake
during your training.”

“Why?”

“We work to restore the Greater
Art. When we fled the Enemy, at the dawn of history, only one
magician in a thousand who battled the Enemy survived. They, for the
most part, were the Lesser Magicians and apprentices. They banded
together in small groups to protect the knowledge they brought with
them from their homeworlds. At first countryman would seek out
countryman, then, later, larger associations grew, as desire grew to
restore the lost arts. After centuries had passed, the Assembly was
founded, and magicians from all parts of the world came, until today
all who walk the Greater Path are members of the Assembly. Most of
those who practice the Lesser Art serve here as well, though they are
afforded a different level of respect and freedom. They tend to be
better at building devices and understanding the forces of nature
than we of the black robes—they build the orbs we use to
transport ourselves from place to place, for one example. While not
outside the law, the Lesser Magicians are protected from interference
from others by the Assembly. All magicians are the province of the
Assembly.”

Milamber said, “So we gain
freedom to act as we see fit, as long as we act in the best interest
of the Empire.”

Hochopepa nodded. “It does not
matter what we do, or even that two magicians may find themselves at
odds over some action or another, as long as both are working in what
they believe is the best interest of the Empire.”

“From my somewhat ‘barbaric’
point of view, a strange law.”

“Not a law, but a tradition. On
this world, my barbaric friend, tradition and custom can be a much
stronger constraint than law. Laws are changed, but tradition
endures.”

“I think I see what your problem
is, my civilized friend. You are not sure if I will act in the best
interest of the Empire, being an outlander.”

Hochopepa nodded. “Were we
certain that you were capable of acting against the Empire, you would
have been killed. As it is, we are uncertain, though we tend to
believe it unlikely you are capable of such action.”

For the first time Milamber was
completely unsure of what he was hearing. “I was under the
assumption that you had ways of ensuring that all who are trained are
loyal to the Empire, as the first duty.”

“Normally, yes. In your case we
faced problems new to us. As far as we can tell, you are submerged in
the underlying cause of the brotherhood of magicians, the order of
the Empire. Usually we are certain. We simply read the apprentice’s
mind. With you we couldn’t. We had to rely on truth drugs, long
interrogations, and training drills designed to show any duplicity.”

“Why?”

“Not for any reason we
understand. The spells of thought masking are known. It was nothing
of that sort. It was as if your mind held some property we had never
encountered before. Perhaps a natural talent unknown to us, but
common to your world, or the result of some training at the hands of
your Lesser Path master protected you against our mind-reading arts.

“In any event, it created
something of a stir in these halls, you may be sure. Several times
during your training, the question of your continuing was raised, and
each time our inability to read your mind was given as reason for
your termination. Each time more were willing to see you continue
than not. On the whole you present a possible wealth of new knowledge
and, as such, deserve every benefit of the doubt—to ensure we
do not lose such a valuable addition to our storehouse of talents, of
course.”