Read Online The Feline Wizard by Christopher Stasheff - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
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nodded thoughtfully. “That is why my earlier spells yielded no hint of Balkis' location—she had traveled through the Void, not been carried for miles drugged on the back of a barbarian pony.”
“But now that you know she went through it, you can find her?”
“It may be.” Prester John rose to take a yard-wide bowl from a shelf, then lifted a waterskin down from a hook. He carried both to the sand floor, set the bowl on the central disc where Matt had stood, and filled it half full of water.
Then he took a small bottle from his sleeve, shook a few drops into the bowl, and finished filling it. A lovely fragrance wafted to Matt's nostrils. With a shock, he recognized Balkis' scent. Prester John must have taken a sample of her perfume.
He had taken one of her scarves, too—Matt watched him twist it into an arrow and lay it carefully in the bowl, then step back off the sand floor to chant a verse that commanded the silken cylinder to point toward she who had worn it. Matt admired the improvisation—Prester John had used the Law of Contagion, that objects once in contact remained in contact over distance, and the Law of Sympathy, that like will to like, and both strengthened by the same symbols that had oriented him earlier in finding the direction Torbat had gone. Matt stood on tiptoe so he could see down into the bowl. Sure enough, gentle wavelets moved there as the perfume rippled into a pattern pointing toward the distant trace of scent that Balkis wore, and the scarf swung to aim toward the skin that it had touched.
“Almost due southeast, but a little more southerly than easterly.” Prester John turned back to Matt with a look of apology. “I regret that is the best I can do, Lord Wizard.”
“It's a huge help, Your Majesty. At least I have some idea which way to go now.”
But Matt couldn't help wondering how far he would have to travel. Certainly miles, or Balkis would have come back already by herself. Afghanistan? India? Indonesia? Australia? He shuddered at the thought that he might have to go all the way to Antarctica, and hoped Balkis had been wearing a warm nightgown.
The next morning, they attended Mass in Prester John's chapel, bigger than most churches, where 365 abbots took daily turns saying the prayers and administering the sacraments in the Nestorian rite, quite different from the one Matt knew. Then Matt left the city by the southern gate, walked a mile, stepped off the road into a convenient grove, and recited the verse that would call Stegoman. The dragon arrived within minutes. Matt mounted, and together they took off to search for a lost cat.
Balkis awoke as the moon rose, feeling far better than she had before, though still lethargic. Seeing the brownie-woman, weaving pine needles and singing a charm, Balkis came fully alert.
Looking up, the brownie-woman saw Balkis' open eyes and smiled. “Are you healed now, maiden?”
Balkis was startled by the question. How had this wee one known her for human when she was in cat's guise?
“The spirit of this grove saw you transform,” the brownie explained, as if Balkis had spoken aloud. “I am Lichi. Have you appetite?”
The question raised a sudden gnawing hunger in Balkis, who nodded. Then, realizing there was no point in hiding her abilities when the brownie already knew she was human, Balkis said, “Most hungry.”
The brownie frowned. “What speech is this?”
Balkis had spoken in the tongue of Allustria, where she grew up, and she recognized the language the brownie spoke as very much like one she had learned while traveling with the Lord Wizard. (The thought of him still made her heart leap.) They had stayed a few weeks in a Parsi village, and Balkis had absorbed the language.
She tried it now. “I am most hungry, kind spirit.”
“Ah! Those words, I understand.” Lichi put aside her weaving and rose. “Come, then.”
She led Balkis to a small hole under the roots of one of the stunted pines. Balkis sniffed and
“But now that you know she went through it, you can find her?”
“It may be.” Prester John rose to take a yard-wide bowl from a shelf, then lifted a waterskin down from a hook. He carried both to the sand floor, set the bowl on the central disc where Matt had stood, and filled it half full of water.
Then he took a small bottle from his sleeve, shook a few drops into the bowl, and finished filling it. A lovely fragrance wafted to Matt's nostrils. With a shock, he recognized Balkis' scent. Prester John must have taken a sample of her perfume.
He had taken one of her scarves, too—Matt watched him twist it into an arrow and lay it carefully in the bowl, then step back off the sand floor to chant a verse that commanded the silken cylinder to point toward she who had worn it. Matt admired the improvisation—Prester John had used the Law of Contagion, that objects once in contact remained in contact over distance, and the Law of Sympathy, that like will to like, and both strengthened by the same symbols that had oriented him earlier in finding the direction Torbat had gone. Matt stood on tiptoe so he could see down into the bowl. Sure enough, gentle wavelets moved there as the perfume rippled into a pattern pointing toward the distant trace of scent that Balkis wore, and the scarf swung to aim toward the skin that it had touched.
“Almost due southeast, but a little more southerly than easterly.” Prester John turned back to Matt with a look of apology. “I regret that is the best I can do, Lord Wizard.”
“It's a huge help, Your Majesty. At least I have some idea which way to go now.”
But Matt couldn't help wondering how far he would have to travel. Certainly miles, or Balkis would have come back already by herself. Afghanistan? India? Indonesia? Australia? He shuddered at the thought that he might have to go all the way to Antarctica, and hoped Balkis had been wearing a warm nightgown.
The next morning, they attended Mass in Prester John's chapel, bigger than most churches, where 365 abbots took daily turns saying the prayers and administering the sacraments in the Nestorian rite, quite different from the one Matt knew. Then Matt left the city by the southern gate, walked a mile, stepped off the road into a convenient grove, and recited the verse that would call Stegoman. The dragon arrived within minutes. Matt mounted, and together they took off to search for a lost cat.
Balkis awoke as the moon rose, feeling far better than she had before, though still lethargic. Seeing the brownie-woman, weaving pine needles and singing a charm, Balkis came fully alert.
Looking up, the brownie-woman saw Balkis' open eyes and smiled. “Are you healed now, maiden?”
Balkis was startled by the question. How had this wee one known her for human when she was in cat's guise?
“The spirit of this grove saw you transform,” the brownie explained, as if Balkis had spoken aloud. “I am Lichi. Have you appetite?”
The question raised a sudden gnawing hunger in Balkis, who nodded. Then, realizing there was no point in hiding her abilities when the brownie already knew she was human, Balkis said, “Most hungry.”
The brownie frowned. “What speech is this?”
Balkis had spoken in the tongue of Allustria, where she grew up, and she recognized the language the brownie spoke as very much like one she had learned while traveling with the Lord Wizard. (The thought of him still made her heart leap.) They had stayed a few weeks in a Parsi village, and Balkis had absorbed the language.
She tried it now. “I am most hungry, kind spirit.”
“Ah! Those words, I understand.” Lichi put aside her weaving and rose. “Come, then.”
She led Balkis to a small hole under the roots of one of the stunted pines. Balkis sniffed and
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