would be only that, would never find the Other. This I did not know. Fool that I was, I thought only of weakening Prester John by stealing away his wizard-niece. I did not know that Kala Nag was a threat far mightier than any strength the princess could lend Prester John.”
Matt felt a chill down his spine—he knew that Prester John and his armies were all that held back the barbarian hordes, that with him armed and ready at their backs, the barbarians dared not ride farther west than their own steppes. “I take it Kala Nag is making progress at winning back the hordes.”
“The gur-khan has turned his back on Ahriman, who failed him,” the shaman reported, “and makes sacrifice to Kala Nag.”
“Then so do all his followers.”
Torbat nodded. “All. Certain chieftains among the Polovtsi, among the Kazakhs and the Manchus, the Uzbeks, the Mongols, the Kirghiz, and even some among the Turkomen have begun to worship her again.”
Matt shuddered at the thought of the juggernaut that was growing out on the steppe, and wondered how a little girl like Balkis could halt its progress. “That means there aren't going to be very many places for you to hide.”
The shaman gave a bleak nod. “Still shall I flee and seek a bolt-hole. The fight is not done until the life is gone.”
“Good luck, then,” Matt said. He felt so sorry for the man that there was no question of not forgiving him. After all, he might have saved the civilized world by sending Balkis away, though he hadn't intended it. “May the wind be at your back.”
The shaman came down out of his trancelike state and stared at him. “You do not seek to punish me?”
“I think that's well in hand,” Matt said.
* * *
The mists dissipated and Matt slipped his wand back into its scabbard. Prester John's workroom materialized around him as the fog vanished.
The king stared. “You do not have the sorcerer?”
“Only his information,” Matt said. “He was running for his life, and I didn't want to watch his death come upon him.”
“What death is that?” Prester John asked, alert for hidden meanings.
“It goes by the name of Kala Nag,” Matt said. “Give me a drink and I'll tell you about her.”
Prester John had a stock of fruit juice in his workroom, which Matt found refreshing. The carafe sat between them on a small table as he told the king of his encounter with the shaman. When he was done, Prester John asked, “So this barbarian goddess has became a demon?”
“Call her what you like.” Matt shrugged. “Goddess or demon, she's devoted to destruction and misery. If people worship her as a goddess, that probably says more about them than it does about her”
“Certainly her behavior would merit the title demon' from any civilized person,” Prester John agreed. “Still, it is not they whom she gathers, but the barbarians.” He frowned in thought. “How can our little Balkis be a bulwark against so terrible a being?”
“Well, she may not be a giant physically, but she has a great heart,” Matt reminded him. “Besides, she's only supposed to become a problem if she links up with this ‘Other’ Torbat mentioned.”
Prester John looked up in surprise. “Would that not be yourself?”
“It could,” Matt said thoughtfully. “I probably wouldn't have come back to Maracanda if you hadn't called me to help find her—but if that's so, we'd better see about my joining her as soon as I can.”
“We must recover her quickly in any case,” Prester John said grimly. “You say that Torbat knew where he sent the child, but not where she arrived?”
Matt nodded. “Right. Balkis managed to come up with acounterspell just as he was launching her.” He couldn't help a smile of pride in his apprentice.
Neither could John, though his smile of pride was for his niece, not his student. “She did well and has the courage of her family. Still, we cannot know where she is.”
“There is that drawback,” Matt admitted.
Prester John
Matt felt a chill down his spine—he knew that Prester John and his armies were all that held back the barbarian hordes, that with him armed and ready at their backs, the barbarians dared not ride farther west than their own steppes. “I take it Kala Nag is making progress at winning back the hordes.”
“The gur-khan has turned his back on Ahriman, who failed him,” the shaman reported, “and makes sacrifice to Kala Nag.”
“Then so do all his followers.”
Torbat nodded. “All. Certain chieftains among the Polovtsi, among the Kazakhs and the Manchus, the Uzbeks, the Mongols, the Kirghiz, and even some among the Turkomen have begun to worship her again.”
Matt shuddered at the thought of the juggernaut that was growing out on the steppe, and wondered how a little girl like Balkis could halt its progress. “That means there aren't going to be very many places for you to hide.”
The shaman gave a bleak nod. “Still shall I flee and seek a bolt-hole. The fight is not done until the life is gone.”
“Good luck, then,” Matt said. He felt so sorry for the man that there was no question of not forgiving him. After all, he might have saved the civilized world by sending Balkis away, though he hadn't intended it. “May the wind be at your back.”
The shaman came down out of his trancelike state and stared at him. “You do not seek to punish me?”
“I think that's well in hand,” Matt said.
* * *
The mists dissipated and Matt slipped his wand back into its scabbard. Prester John's workroom materialized around him as the fog vanished.
The king stared. “You do not have the sorcerer?”
“Only his information,” Matt said. “He was running for his life, and I didn't want to watch his death come upon him.”
“What death is that?” Prester John asked, alert for hidden meanings.
“It goes by the name of Kala Nag,” Matt said. “Give me a drink and I'll tell you about her.”
Prester John had a stock of fruit juice in his workroom, which Matt found refreshing. The carafe sat between them on a small table as he told the king of his encounter with the shaman. When he was done, Prester John asked, “So this barbarian goddess has became a demon?”
“Call her what you like.” Matt shrugged. “Goddess or demon, she's devoted to destruction and misery. If people worship her as a goddess, that probably says more about them than it does about her”
“Certainly her behavior would merit the title demon' from any civilized person,” Prester John agreed. “Still, it is not they whom she gathers, but the barbarians.” He frowned in thought. “How can our little Balkis be a bulwark against so terrible a being?”
“Well, she may not be a giant physically, but she has a great heart,” Matt reminded him. “Besides, she's only supposed to become a problem if she links up with this ‘Other’ Torbat mentioned.”
Prester John looked up in surprise. “Would that not be yourself?”
“It could,” Matt said thoughtfully. “I probably wouldn't have come back to Maracanda if you hadn't called me to help find her—but if that's so, we'd better see about my joining her as soon as I can.”
“We must recover her quickly in any case,” Prester John said grimly. “You say that Torbat knew where he sent the child, but not where she arrived?”
Matt nodded. “Right. Balkis managed to come up with acounterspell just as he was launching her.” He couldn't help a smile of pride in his apprentice.
Neither could John, though his smile of pride was for his niece, not his student. “She did well and has the courage of her family. Still, we cannot know where she is.”
“There is that drawback,” Matt admitted.
Prester John
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