"You'd prefer swords?" Markus asked him, over-
hearing. "Or maybe something more lethal still? Like
this." He threw his left hand toward the ceiling- A
burst of lightning flew from his fingers to shatter the
pole holding a banner across the table. Splinters and
fabric tumbled onto the Quorum. Markus grinned as
they fought to extricate themselves while maintaining
their dignity.
"Something more impressive?" he inquired.
"No, no, that will be quite satisfactory," harrumphed
Trendavi, trying to untangle himself from the fallen
banner.
"You can feed and you can destroy," snapped
Opiode, "but can you create?"
Again the salamander's hands moved in time to his
mouth.
"Jewels of the earth
Scarce and profound
Gems of great worth
Come forth from the ground
Rise here to please us
To tempt and to tease us!"
Crystals of blue and yellow, of rose and lavender
began to take shape in the center of the table. They
seemed to grow out of the wood, catching the light
as they developed, throwing back delightful colors at
the enraptured members. By the time Opiode con-
cluded the incantation, the entire table was encrusted
with crystals. A smattering of applause came from
the servitors gathered along the walls-
But Markus the Ineluctable only smiled wider as
THS MOMEHT OF THE MAQtCIAM 11
he moved his fingers against one another. The ap-
plause for Opiode turned to awed whispers.
Flowers began to appear, growing out of the na-
ked stone of the walls and ceiling. Exotic, alien
blossoms that put forth the most exquisite smells. A
blaze of color and fragrance filled the Quorum cham-
ber to overflowing.
You could see the opinions of several members of
the Quorum begin to shift in/Markus's favor.
"Satisfied yet?" Markus asked them. "You tell me
which of us is the more powerful magician."
"A magician is a trickster, not a wizard," said
Opiode.
Markus shrugged. "I prefer magician. I'm comfort-
able with it. I've always called myself a magician. As
for my 'tricks,' they seem just as effective as your
wizardry. Had enough?"
"There is one more thing," said Opiode slowly.
"You have shown what you can do for others, but can
you do for yourself?" So saying he pointed a red-and-
black arm at Markus's face and uttered an incanta-
tion so powerful the words cannot stand repeating.
A slight but steady breeze sprang up, rippling the
fur of the onlookers, and the glow bulbs grew dim. No
one in the chamber dared to breathe, lest a fraction
of that energy latch onto them and turn them to
dust.
As they stared, Markus the Ineluctable began to
rise from the floor. He put his hands on his hips and
considered his levitation thoughtfully, then nodded
appreciatively in Opiode's direction.
"Hey. not bad. Not bad at all." Then he raised one
hand and murmured something almost indifferently.
Opiode the Siy, Opiode the clever, Opiode the
principal advisor in matters arcane and magical to
the Quorum of Quasequa, vanished.
Shouts and cries from the servitors, mild panic
Aim Dean roster
12
among the more impressionable members of the.
Quorum as Markus settled gently back to the ground.
"What have you done with him?" Domunnur's
teeth were clenched, but he knew when he was
overmatched. There was little more he could do than
ask. "Where is he?"
"Where is he? Well now, let me think." Markus
rubbed his chin. "He might be over... there!" He
pointed sharply toward a far doorway. Servitors
stationed there scattered, dropping a platter of fruit
behind them. Markus turned, inspecting the chamber.
"Or he might be... under there." A couple of the
members of the Quorum inadvertently peered un-
when they realized how easily the newcomer had
manipulated them.
"But he's actually probably right... here." Markus
the Ineluctable removed his black hat, turned it
upside down, and tapped it once, twice, a third time.
Out plopped a dazed and very disoriented Opiode
the Sly. Disdaining Markus's proffered hand, the
salamander struggled to his feet and backed away,
shaking his head and trying to regain his bearings.
From the Quorum came a rising cry in support of
Markus.
Opiode ignored it, stared narrowly at his opponent.
"I don't know how you did that, but of one thing I
am certain: it was no clean wizardry."
"Oh, it was clean enough," said Markus smugly.
"Just a mite different from what you're used to,
that's all. Are you afraid of something different,
something new?" He turned to face the Quorum.
"Are you all afraid of something different, even if it's
better than what you've been used to?"
"No," said Trendavi quickly. "We are not afraid of
what is different, or of what is new. We of Quasequa
pride ourselves on accepting new things, on promot-
TBS MOMENT OP TSOE MAGICIAN
13
ing innovation." He gazed sorrowfully in Opiode's
direction. "It is my recommendation and I hereby
move that the Quorum officially nominate Markus
the Ineluctable to the position of chief advisor to the
Quorum on matters arcane and magical, and I fur-
thermore move that Opiode the Sly, who has served
us so well lo these many years, be retired from the
post with a vote of thanks and an official commenda-
tion to be decided upon later."
"Seconded!" said a pair of voices simultaneously.
And that was that. It was done, over, and Markus
stood smiling, arms crossed before him as his sup-
porters gathered around to congratulate him on his
victory and those who had opposed him moved to
offer grudging words of acceptance. A few would
have offered their condolences to the defeated Opiode,
but the salamander did not linger. Instead, he left
quickly and with dignity, still a bit shaken from the
manner in which Markus had handled him, but in
no way cowed or t>eaten.
It was dark in the wizard's study. But then, Opiode
preferred the dim light and the dampness. His rooms
were situated at the edge of the Quorumate Com-
plex and below the water line. Ancient stones held
back the warm water of the Lake of Sorrowful Pearls
while allowing a pleasant dampness to seep through.
Thick moss, red as well as green, grew on the stones
and ceiling. The furniture was fashioned of stone or
boram root, which resists rot.
Glow bulbs dangled overhead, their magic lights
dimmer than usual, the weak illumination a reflec-
tion of the wizard's uncomfortable state of mind.
Opiode stared steadily at one flickering bulb as he
lay in his thinktank. The stone basin was filled with
freshly drawn lake water rich with lichens, mosses,
tight blue hot pads, and minute aquatic insects.
14 Alan Dean Foster
Altogether, the rooms constituted a benign and
thoroughly salamandrine environment.
But as Opiode lay on his back, his arms crossed
over his chest, his tail gently agitating the water, it
was plain to see he was disturbed. Tending the
crackling fire nearby was a much smaller and younger
salamander, well aware of his master's unease. Flute
wore the cloak of an apprentice. He was stouter than
Opiode, marked with black spots instead of red, and
his expression was anxious- His feathery pink gills
lay flat against his neck as he waited patiently for
Opiode to arise. A sad day. He knew what had
happened in the Quorum chamber far above. Every-
one in the city would know by tonight.
Finally Opiode rose from the basin, shifting easily
to inhaling air instead of water, and declared
portentously, "This thing must not be allowed to
happen!"
"Your pardon. Master," said Flute sofdy. "What
must not be allowed to happen?"
"I have lost. There is nothing that can be done
about that. Nor do I deny the strength of this
newcomer's magic. He is a valid wizard, or magician,
or whatever he chooses to call himself. A manipula-
tor of the unknown. But it is not his abilities I fear; it
is his intentions. Those I comprehend even less than
his magic."
He walked over to stand before the fire. Flute
moved to the table and checked the settings for
supper, then to the stove on which a big pot of
caddisfly stew sat boiling. He stirred it carefully. One
had to have a delicate touch with the dish or the
nests within would become soft and stringy and
would lose the delicate crunch so beloved of gourmets.
"Nor do I like the attitude of his original support-
ers on the Quorum," Opiode went on, staring into
the fire. "Kindore and Vazvek. Those two opportun-
THK MOMKVT OF THE MAOICIAM
15
ists would throw in their lot with anyone they thought
might help them turn a profit. And Asmouelle and
some of the others have the spines of worms. With so
much support, there is nothing to stop this Markus."
"Stop him from doing what. Master?"
"From doing whatever he wishes to do. He is chief
advisor to the Quorum. A prestigious position and
one which would satisfy most. But not him, 1 think. I
saw that much in his eyes. That is not sorcery. That is
thirty years of experience. Flute. No, he wants more.
I fear, much more."
"Evil designs. Master?"
"Flute, I have lived long enough and dealt with
those in power often enough to recognize the hun-
ger for power when it manifests itself on the face of
another. I saw it in the face of Markus the Inelucta-
ble as I left the Quorum chamber. He conceals it
from the others, but he cannot hide it from me,
"Did you know. Flute, that the great joy of living in
Quasequa is that we have never had a single ruler?
No kings here, no presidents or emperors. Only the
Quorum, which functions in a kind of constrained
anarchy. It suits us, we Quasequans.
"This Markus will think otherwise. He will see
weakness where we see strength. And it does have its
vulnerabilities, our system, particularly when some
are ready to grovel at the feet of the first would-be
dictator who comes along and declares himself."
"You think he means to announce himself absolute
ruler?"
"I wish I could be certain, but I can't." Opiode
absently cleaned his left eye with his tongue. "In any
event, I am no longer in a position to stop him."
"Is his magic so much stronger than yours, Master?"
"It was today. On another day"—he shrugged slick
shoulders—"who can say? But there is no denying
his power. If 1 only knew the source he draws
Alan Dean Foster
16
upon..." He broke off and moved to the table, the
frustration sharp on his face.
Flute reached for the potholders. "Supper, Master?"
"No, not yet." Opiode waved him off, his mind
working intensely. "If I could only be certain of his
intentions, of his motivations—but where humans
are concerned, nothing is obvious, nothing is certain."
"What if he truly is more powerful than you,
Master?" It was not a disrespectful question.
"Then we will need the assistance of one who can
deal not only with strong magic but with strange
magic."
"There is one more talented than you. Master?"
For the First time that day, Opiode smiled slighdy.
"You have seen but little of the wide world, my
young student. It is unimaginably vast and rich with
wonders and surprises. Yes, there are wizards more
powerful than I. I am thinking of one in particular.
One who is wise beyond all others, knowledgeable
beyond comprehending, stronger even, I think, than
this Markus the Ineluctable... 1 hope. One who is
brave, courageous, and bold, an inspiration to all
other wizards. It is he whose help we must have:
Clothahump of the Tree."
Flute frowned, turned away so that Opiode could
not see the skepticism on his face. "I have heard of
him. Master. Truly it is said that he is wise and full of
learning, long-lived and powerful. However, I have
yet to hear it said of him that he is brave, courageous,
and bold."
"Well," Opiode retreated somewhat, "I confess some
of it may be rumor. But his ability is proven fact. You
know that he was largely responsible for the recent
defeat of the Plated Folk at the batde for the Jo-
Troom Gale."
"I have heard many versions of that battle. Master,
some of which were less flattering to Clothahump of
THE MoMKprr OF THK MAGICIAN.
17
the Tree than others. It is told that he was there at
the critical moment, yes, but to what degree he was
involved depends on which storyteller you are listen-
ing to."
"Nevertheless, he is the only one powerful enough
to help us. We must seek his aid. He cannot refuse
us."
"How will you inform him. Master?" Flute gazed
sadly at the supper that was on the verge of
overcooking. "Shall I prepare the pentagram for a
traveling conjuration?"
"No." Opiode rose from the table. "This Markus
might be strong enough to detect it. And there is no
guarantee of its working, given the distance the
conjuration would have to travel. Clothahump's home
lies a long way from Quasequa—and I am getting
old. It has been a long time since I attempted a
traveling conjuration over such a distance."
Flute was shocked by this admission of weakness
but fought not to show it. Truly the loss of today's
contest had weakened not only his Master's stature
but his confidence as well.
Or perhaps Opiode the Sly was merely being prop-
eriy cautious. Flute preferred to think that that was
the case.
"We must have a messenger," the wizard muttered.
"A reliable messenger. One who is used to traveling
far and fast and who will not be afraid to leave the
familiar country that surrounds the Lake of Sorrow-
ful Pearls." He thought a moment longer before
nodding to himself and looking up at his apprentice-
"Khi the Isle of Kunatweh, the furthermost of the
four high islands that form the eastern part of the
.city, hi the place where the fliers congregate, lives a
raven named Pandro. Bring him here to "me- Make
certain that none see you. I will explain what he
must do. Although 1 have never had reason to use
18 Alan Dean Foster
one such as him before, by reputation he is brave
and trustworthy. Again 1 tell you to take care in your
going and returning. It is said that this Markus
already has spies roaming the city and reporting
back only to him.
"Although he defeated me today, he strikes me as
no fool. I am sure he still regards me as his most
dangerous rival. In that he is right," Opiode muttered
grimly. "I sense and see what kind of individual he is
and so am unalterably opposed to having him in a
position of power in the city 1 love so dearly. I believe
he must know my feelings toward him, and in any
case, such as he will leave nothing to chance. So he
will have this place watched. At least you can slip out
without being seen. I do not believe anyone eke
knows of my private entryway."
"When do I leave. Master?"
"Now." The wizard hesitated. "Have you eaten?"
"It does not matter. Master. I can eat anytime.**
"No," Opiode said firmly." "You may need all your
strength. First we eat."
They did so, the meal passing largely in contempla-
tive silence. Then Flute secured his waterproof cloak
snugly around him and moved to the arched alcove
on the far side of the room. The arch was an
inverted bell fashioned of tightly chinked tile. A
pressure spell invoked by Opiode kept the lake water
out.
Flute climbed the stone steps until he could look
out onto the black water that lapped against the wall
of the bell. He readied his gills, fluffing them out