“Say
it with me now, for I cannot let you leave until you have memorized
all the verses.”
As
one they repeated the rhyme three times. Then the Wizard nodded,
brought his hands together as though praying, closed his eyes, and
made as if to offer something upward, towards the surface of the
earth, the sky, and those astral forces that lay beyond.
Amos
mimicked the gesture, as children will do, although she understood
not the meaning of it. Being a child, she lived in a
constant state of ignorance, and so she was able to accept many of
the mysteries she encountered – but very seldom did she do this
without question.
“Will
the rhyme protect me from the Harzia? Is it a spell or charm?”
“Not
at all, child,” the Wizard said solemnly. “There is no magic that
can stop them in their malice and avarice; but we can fool them in
their ignorance and arrogance, so that you and those you select as
your trusted entourage will be indetectable, indistinguishable from
all others.”
Amos
clued in, and said with deep awe, “You're going to turn our blue
blood red?”
“Yes,
child.” The Wizard then produced as if from thin air an envelope
that was sealed; but it was also quite ratty and squashed. “Within,
I have written down a recipe for a concoction of mine. There a lot of
ingredients, and they are some of them hard to come by – but your
family is one of great provenance. With such resources, you should
have no trouble acquiring what you need. To mix it, you will need to
hire a chemist – but only one who you can trust to be discrete.”
“Is
it a potion we must drink?”
“Not
exactly,” the Wizard said. “There are instructions on how to use
the mixture. You will also have to hire an ink-wright, and while this
man need not know your secret, he must also follow the instructions
I've included exactly.
Do you understand?”
Amos
nodded.
“When
you open the envelope, you will find that the recipe is encrypted. I
have included the key, the primer, that will teach you to unlock the
words – but this you must destroy once you have learned, so that
only you have the power to read my notes. This is your secret, Amos –
you must guard it and share it with no one. You can share the
mixture, but not the method. Do you understand?”
Amos
nodded again.
“Good
girl.” The Wizard gave her the envelope. “You're sharp as a tack,
aren't you?”
“Beats
being dull as a doorknob!”
“Ha
ha! Well said, my dear!” the Wizard slapped his knee in delight,
but in the next moment he looked upon the girl with unmitigated
sadness. Uncomfortable under that gaze, Amos averted her eyes.
Looking
at the cards, which seemed to depict her entire life in a way that
she couldn't read, but somehow understood, little Amos asked another
question, and the conversation tacked in another direction.
“What
happens when you die?”
“You
mean people, in general? Where do people go?”
“My
mother told me that the just are taken to a house somewhere past the
most distant star; and they are met by the Lord and Lady of that
house, who are very powerful and have many names. What is there to do
in that house?”
“Anything
you can imagine,” the Wizard, “for that House is the Infinite
Mind, which your little mind is a reflection of, the way that a
single drop of water can reflect the entire world as it dangles from
a leaf.”
“What
about the Harzia? Where do they go when they die?”
“Every
house has a basement.”
Amos
seemed to remember that she was in basement herself, and felt trapped
thinking that there might be unhappy souls of human sacrifices
wandered about the cavern, moaning and droning. Nervously, she looked
over her shoulder.
“Yes,”
the Wizard said. “It is time for you to be on your way. I will wake
your brother up, and you must take him along the course I describe to
you.”
“Has
he seen you?” Amos asked. “Will he believe me if I say that I met
a Wizard down here?”
“You
can try to explain it to him if you feel you must, but he will not
remember me. He will wake from dreams of flying, and I will have
already flown.”
“He
used to sleep with his bum in the air,” Amos said in a whisper,
giggling a little. “Rory told me. He's my other brother, only now
he's dead.”
“Come
along, little one. I will show you the way out.”
They
rose together, and the Wizard handed her the lamp. She examined it
closely, transfixed by the make of it, and the weird glow that did
not flicker for fire. The Wizard chuckled and put his hand on her
shoulder, nudging her on; she followed him down into the dark.
The
floor of the cavern sloped away, and then levelled out into a dried
riverbed. Here Amos could see how the stone had been smoothed by the
flow that had run out, run dry, or diverted its course so long ago.
They walked along this way as if it were a paved road. They came to a
place after some time where the ceiling stooped low, and the Wizard
was soon reduced to crawling on his fours, in trousers that had in
the knees two ragged holes.
At
a certain point he stopped, and pointed further down, where a slight
gap opened before him.
“Your
way lies within this crevice,” he said. “It is a long way, but
you will find no peril. If you despair when the way grows narrow,
press on! You will find your way out.”
“How
do you know for certain?” Amos queried.
“I
know because you are not destined to die down in this dank hole, as
all those other children did. For you, this is but the first of many
meetings you and I will have; although for me, it is the last.”
“That
doesn't make any sense at all!”
“It
is nevertheless true. Fare well!”
The
lamp that Amos carried flared brightly in her hands, although she had
done nothing to increase the radiance. She was blinded by it, and
quite startled. When she blinked and shook her head to relieve her
bedazzlement, the Wizard she found was nowhere around.
As
she made her way back up the riverbed, she repeated the verses that
the Wizard had taught her. Back up near the altar, she found Veon
awake and bewildered, but of the blanket and the cards and all the
trinkets she had seen laid about the cavern floor which belonged to
the Wizard there was now no trace.
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