Mama stared “Was it the Mahdi who sent you to besiege us, then?”
“It was!” Beidizam exclaimed, then saw her skepticism and relented. “Of course, I was one of those who raised him up to be Mahdi in the first place… but it is nonetheless he who commands!”
“Commands in war,” Mama qualified. “Will not the real sage govern, when the Mahdi is done conquering?”
“Sage?” Beidizam grinned, confidence restored… he knew something she didn’t know after all. “Say rather, the schemer! Yes, Nirobus seeks to conquer all the world, and will use the religion of Allah to that end as easily as any other. All he cares is that all be unified under one rule.”
“His?” Mama asked. “Why not? He can be sure of his own motives, at least, and can trust himself.”
“Can you?” Mama asked “As long as I do his bidding, yes.” Beidizam shrugged. “And why should I not? He will give me power over a fifth of the world, I will govern with only Nirobus himself above me! Why should I not do as he bids me?”
Mama frowned “And what will you do with this fifth of the world?”
“Be sure that there is justice for all men, no matter their rank,” Bei dizam told her. “Be sure that there is peace… that no man raises his hand against another, or steals his wife or goods, that every merchant can go safely from Ibile to Lacuna, or even Allustria, with no fear of bandits.”
“Is that all?” Mama smiled as though at a shared secret “Will there be no wealth, no luxury, no harem?”
“Well, of course ” Beidizam grinned “The ruling of a fifth of the world is a heavy burden. Will I not deserve some comforts to console me?”
Saul snorted. Mama frowned at him, but he only said, “Rank has its privileges, huh?”
“But of course.” Beidizam returned the gloating grin that Saul had given him so shortly before. “What is he like, this Nirobus?” Mama asked “Fair in his ludgments, mild in his speech and manners, and courteous to all,” Beidizam told her. “He is a sage in his way, but is far more practical than that.”
“Young or old?”
“Mature,” Beidizam said judiciously “His hair and beard are gray, as are his eyes. To speak truly, he looks more like a Frank than a Moor.”
“Does he indeed?” Mama turned thoughtful. “Be sure he is no traitor, though!” Beidizam said quickly.
“He could not be a Frank… his Arabic is too perfect, his Berber too homely!”
But Mama had considerable experience in the learning and teaching of other languages, and knew that educated foreigners frequently spoke a language better than those born to it. She didn’t say so, of course, only smiled and changed the subject. “I must go now, Lord Beidizam, but I shall send men to conduct you to chambers far more pleasant than this.”
Beidizam frowned. “Must I remain your prisoner, then?”
“I would prefer to think of you as a guest,” Mama said, “but yes, you must remain with us… and I must ask you to speak to no one, most especially not to recite a spell.”
Beidizam gave her a sly grin. “I will not promise you that… nor should you trust me if I did!”
“As you say,” Mama sighed, and sang a little song. Saul frowned, recognizing the language for Latin, but understood only one word, repeated several times. “A pleasant ditty,” Beidizam told her “Is it your farewell for me?”
“Only until noon tomorrow.” Mama rose from the cot. “I shall visit you once every day… we shall eat the midday meal together, unless I am called away. My servants shall make you comfortable I trust your stay with us shall be a pleasant one.”
“As pleasant as it can be, when I cannot be about the work for which I burn,” Beidizam said sourly.
“Nevertheless, it is better than the company of your bloodthirsty friend there. May I hope that you will take him with you when you leave?”
“Of course Saul, please come with me.” Mama went to the door and passed out. Saul paused for one last murderous shark-smile at Beidizam, then went after Mama.
As he closed the door, he said, “Nice work. You did a great job of charming him… literally.”
“Why, thank you, Saul,” Mama said, with a polite flutter of the eyelashes. “But I should take no credit for it… it is more a matter of talent than of accomplishment, you know.”
“Well, yes, but you certainly had the skill to use that talent.”
Behind them inside the cell, Beidizam grinned in the ruddy light of the brazier. The foolish Franks had left him bound, yes, but with his lips free! There was no gag, and did a sorcerer ever need more than words to escape a prison? Softly, he began to chant an ancient Arabic verse.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Outside the cell, climbing the stairs up from the dungeon, Mama said, “You did your part very well, Saul. He was quite frightened when I came in.”
“Why, thank you, Lady Mantrell,” Saul said, with an “aw, shucks” sort of grin. “I used to watch horror movies when I was a kid.”
“Educational media, no doubt… you must have learned well from them. What did you do to him?”
“To him, nothing. I just imitated the sadists I’ve met one place and another, especially since I came to this world. Of course, Beidizam couldn’t know that… “
“You must be quite talented,” Mama said, “a natural mimic.”
“Why, thank you.” Saul told himself he shouldn’t be so pleased. “You realize, of course, that the second we walked out that door, Beidizam started chanting a verse to transport him out of that cell and back to his own tent.”
“Of course, but he will not succeed,” Mama said with certainty. “I have made sure of that.”
“Yes, that was an odd little spell you sang him. What was it? All I could pick out was the word ‘aphasia.’
“You know of it, then?”
“Of course… it’s the ultimate speech defect, usually caused by damage to the brain. Someone who suffers from it can make all the speech sounds… his tongue, vocal folds, and lips are just fine. But they’re disconnected from his brain; the link between mind and mouth has been broken.”
“An interesting way to put it,” Mama said, frowning.
“Sure. The person with aphasia thinks she’s saying, ‘I’m speaking perfectly clearly,’ but all that’s coming out is gibberish. She can’t encode her thoughts as language; no matter what she tries to say, all that comes out of her mouth is babbling non… ” Saul stared. “You didn’t!”
“I most certainly did,” Mama said with asperity. “He shall have aphasia indeed, unless he talks to me… and I trust you shall always be near, to counter any spell he tries to cast at such times.”
“Well, I will, of course,” Saul said, frowning, “but why would you need me? You’re the spellbinder!”
“Because sooner or later he will try to knock me out or gag me, to prevent my blocking his enchantments,” Mama said with complete assurance. “He may not be the tiger he thinks himself, but he is most certainly a wolf. You will not let me go alone into his den, will you, Saul?”
“Not a chance,” Saul said fervently, thinking of the prophet Daniel.
So no matter how hard he tried, Beidizam remained their permanent guest, and none of his underlings wanted to take the responsibility for attacking the city without magical backup. Without their sorcerer there to command, no one did anything, and the siege ground to a sit-down halt.
Matt went over and nudged Luco with his foot. The boy’s head rolled, a silly grin on his face. “He’s out, but good and proper. What’re we going to do with him, Papa? Can’t just leave him lying around cluttering up the place.”
Papa shrugged. “What did I always do when I found him out too late? Send him home.”
“Sure, why not?” Matt turned thoughtful. “It could be that every time somebody makes that trip, the channel becomes a little more solidly established, couldn’t it?”