Songs of the Dying Earth. Gardner Dozois

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Bayate Knot,” Sarimance said, giving his insufferable smile. “And never done better.”

      “Astounding! Impressive! Delightful!” cried Eunepheos. “Tralques, your star is clearly on the ascendant! Now, Sarimance, give us your very best!”

      Sarimance levitated, spiraled up into the air like a vermilion torch, then slowly descended to the floor, an overture that Amberlin judged needlessly excessive, even ostentatious.

      As Sarimance gestured, two great golden doorways formed to the left and right of the chamber. Through the left-hand portal came a procession of the greatest wizards Grand Motholam had ever known.

      First there was Calanctus the Calm, resplendent in the purple, green, and orange robe he wore at the Alancthon Festival so long ago when he defeated Conamas the Sophist. The magician walked smiling past the dais and inclined his head once in courteous greeting.

      Close behind came Dibarcas Maior, wearing the intricate fire-weave robe for which he had been celebrated across the lands, and with two fire-demons dancing upon his shoulders. He raised an arm in greeting and moved on through the right-hand portal. Zinqzin the Encyclopaedist followed, holding in his arms the two great wonder-books that had ensured his place in the annals of the truly great. He too inclined his head to the assembled fellowship and passed beyond the door.

      Then appeared Amberlin I in an emerald green gown streaked with gold, with Amberlin II close behind, masked and robed in luminous yellow. Both seemed overly solemn compared to the others; their nods to Eunepheos and his companions were measured and respectful, but their manner was somewhat aloof. One after the other they stepped through the right-hand door and disappeared.

      The Vapurials appeared next, all three laughing and saluting the spectators with their eternally replenishing goblets of wine from far Pergolay. As they reached the right-hand exit, they flung down their goblets, which exploded in their personal color sprays of cobalt, saffron, and umber.

      Then Llorio the Sorceress entered the great room in a sedan chair carried by a dozen liveried lizard-heads. If the rumors were true, they were former suitors, each one giving up their lives for a single night each year with their splendid mistress. Llorio smiled and regarded the watching wizards as if, even now, she might consider their eligibility for a place in her service. It was an unnerving moment.

      Members of the Green and Purple College came next, three dazzling wizards and three beautiful sorceresses wearing their fabulous turbans and College regalia, striding forth and waving at the spectators, clearly enjoying the occasion. No sooner had they passed by the dais and reached the exit than the Arch-Mage Mael Lel Laio swept into the room, nodded at Eunepheos and the judges, rather perfunctorily it seemed, almost as if he preferred to be somewhere else, then proceeded on his way.

      Kyrol of Porphyrhyncos followed, and it seemed he was to complete the display, for no sooner had that powerful black-skinned wizard moved past in his robes of silver assantine than there was a pause. Then came a swelling fanfare of destiny-horns and the room glowed with a wash of blue-white radiance as, first among them, Phandaal the Great appeared, smiling and magnificent. He actually paused before the dais and raised his arms in a brotherly salute before continuing on his way, the destiny horns playing all the while. As he entered the golden exit door, he gestured behind him, and the portal vanished in a final burst of radiance.

      How the hosts of Dessinga applauded! No doubt they had been carefully schooled to recognize each member of that fabulous procession.

      “You honor us indeed, Master Sarimance,” Eunepheos said. “The greatest ones are well known for both their acute sense of protocol and for their restive natures in matters of place, so that often even the manifestations we have seen today are not always easy together. You have managed to bring us a most harmonious and well-behaved display under the circumstances. I commend and thank you.”

      “I aimed only to please,” Sarimance said, and returned to his place before the dais.

      “Amberlin, to the floor!” Eunepheos cried. “Now we see what you have been holding back! I, for one, can hardly wait.”

      Amberlin gave a smart half-bow, just langorous enough, then took his place and turned. It was his final chance. He would risk everything.

      Without further thought, he invoked Aspalin’s Fond Retrieval, once his greatest display spell, hoping that this time the vowels and articulations held true, or that some new skewing by the Inflect delivered an improvement in scale and majesty.

      The air was split with a resounding thunderclap and lit all over with great stabs of lightning, then a very fine and wholly unexpected vortex began spiraling out in the hall, churning and roaring.

      It boded well and Amberlin dared to feel hope. He watched as the mighty cone of air finally narrowed and funneled down on a single lighted spot.

      The anomaly then vanished in a final clap of thunder, leaving complete silence.

      A lowly earthenware teapot sat upon the paving. It gave a tentative, “Me-Me-Me!” in a broken, throaty voice, then began reciting a bawdy ballad from the Land of the Falling Wall. It had just finished the chorus and was starting on the second verse when the contest time limit was reached and both kitchen utensil and song vanished in a puff of crimson smoke.

      “Great Eunepheos, I can explain everything—” Amberlin began to say, but Eunepheos interrupted.

      “It is after the event,” he said, rising from his throne. “Explain nothing! Now it is time for our judges to deliver their decision. Noble magicians, step out upon the floor one last time, if you will, and face your adjudicators.”

      The three wizards did so, watching as the glass cases behind Eunepheos buzzed and crackled with renewed energies. Finally, when sufficient discussion had transpired, a single thread of force projected from each to penetrate Eunepheos’ body. When he now spoke, his eyes glowed with a lambent white light and his voice was an overlay of three voices made into one.

      “By the order of presentation, we appraise you,” the composite voice said. Eunepheos the Darke stood frozen, only his mouth and jaw moving. “Tralques Iron Star, wonderfully done. You use magic borrowed from your betters, but inheritance is always difficult in magical affairs and you acquitted yourself superbly.”

      Tralques bowed. “Thank you, noble sirs. Your example will inspire me to do better next time, I’m sure.”

      Eunepheos seemed not to hear. “Sarimance the Aspurge, your invocations showed imagination and a truly commendable degree of respect to those who are your betters. You are skilful, strategic and inspiring, if somewhat unforgiving.”

      Sarimance bowed. “Great lords, my relentlessness is inspired by your own discipline and dedication. We can only dream of the time when you were among us and thank you for gifting us with your presence here today.”

      Again there was no acknowledgment from Eunepheos or the remembrance cases.

      “Amberlin the Lesser,” the triple voice said. “Today you have surprised us with the selections you chose for such an important occasion. But you have shown a sense of novelty and the unruly, and there is about you an insouciance and irreverence that we like. In short, you have remembered that since we too are wizards of great power, if only as remembrances, for us magic and magical display are easy and second nature. What is missing from our lives are the elements of absurdity and genuine surprise. You have provided these things in ample measure—and are therefore our winner!”

СКАЧАТЬ