Star Winds

Matello broke off his tale to walk to the table, where he refilled his goblet and came back swigging it, the flagon in his other hand. “It was then we had a bit of luck,” he said. “Flammarion here had already heard of the whereabouts of this book, over a hundred years ago. He’s a much traveled being, you see. Probably nobody else in Maralia knew of it.”

“So that’s why you wanted the book.”

The baron nodded. “The duke has already let one alchemist into his fortress. He’ll do the same for another—if it’s somebody who’s bringing him what he’s looking for.”

“I? …”

Matello nodded again.

“My lord, I’m not sure I can pass myself off as an adept.”

Matello guffawed, his eyes twinkling. “Now the truth is out! But you know some of the pattern, which should suffice for a while. The Root of Transformations is your real passport into the Aegis, the rest is just decoration. I’m absolutely sure the duke will fall for it—but I can’t use one of my own men or his agents might get wind of the deception. It’s got to be somebody like you, from a distant, unknown place, and with that peculiar foreign accent of yours. Flammarion will tell you what you’re to do once you’re inside.”

Suddenly Matello emptied his goblet, filled it again and handed it to Rachad, himself sipping from the flagon. “Well, what do you say? I won’t compel you to it, because this is a job that has to be done willingly. But I’ll be damned annoyed if you refuse.”

Rachad thought over the proposal. It frightened him. But at the same time the idea of such an adventure, of playing such a role in Maralian power politics, was almost irresistible.

“Do you trust me, my lord?” he had the temerity to ask. “What if, once in the Aegis, I sided with the duke?”

“Unlikely,” Matello rumbled. “I can’t see you wanting to spend the rest of your life in an adamant fortress. If you crossed me, your life would be worth nothing outside it. Besides, you have so much to gain, young Caban. You’ll be able practically to name your own reward. Both halves of the book will be yours. I’ll send you home to Earth with a hundred tons of gold, if that’s what you want. Or you can stay here in Maralia, where King Lutheron will no doubt heap honors upon you.” The baron’s voice became silkily persuasive. Rachad thrilled.

He made his mind up. “So what am I to do?” he demanded.

“To begin with, simply take up residence down in the town. The duke has an agent there, I’m aware of that. You must on no account let it be known that you have any connection with me. Pose as an alchemist, and put it discreetly about that you are in search of a missing alchemical text, which you may name. The duke’s man will lose no time in finding you, and you may both then discover that each has what the other is looking for. From then on it should be plain sailing.”

“He will try to buy it from me, of course,” Rachad commented.

“And you will absolutely refuse. You will insist on being allowed to study the other part of the book, and on discoursing with Amschel, who has attempted to follow its principles. Since the duke will not let either out of his control, he will have no choice but to invite you inside.”

“First he will want to be convinced that the book is genuine.”

“Then part with one page of it,” Matello replied with a shrug. “Amschel will authenticate it.”

Rachad nodded. “And if I open the gates of the Aegis—what then? Do you have it under siege?”

“Everything is made ready. It is under constant observation, and nearby I have a small force hidden underground. They will rush in as soon as the Aegis is opened. There are only paltry defenses within, I believe.”

He paused, while Rachad carried on thinking. “You’ll find the duke a strange fellow,” Matello said softly. “They say the Aegis is a madman’s world. What goes on in there is unbelievable.”

“What I can’t understand,” Rachad said with a trace of asperity, “is why anyone in Maralia should be interested in alchemy at all, with gold so common. Why is the duke so keen on it?”

“You echo my own views,” laughed the baron gruffly. “Yet philosophers still strive for the secret of transmutation, for whatever obscure satisfaction it gives them. As far as I can see it’s a perfectly useless exercise—although alchemy has been known to produce some interesting weapons of war. I once heard tell of alchemical bullets that speed up indefinitely after they leave the muzzle. If they miss their target, they accelerate up to lightspeed.”

“I have seen better than that,” Rachad said hurriedly. “When we journeyed from Earth we were attacked by alchemical monsters that grew from seeds.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told. Well, young man, can I count on you?”

“Yes, my lord,” Rachad said definitely. “You can count on me.”

“Good!” the baron said, with great satisfaction. He drank deeply from his flagon, then raised it aloft.

“To the opening of the Aegis!”

And he laughed so wildly and so long that Rachad felt chilled in his bones.

***