Papa lowered his gaze, troubled; the mention of Mama in danger gave him pause.
Matt saw, and followed up his advantage. Pitching his voice low, he said, “Besides… it’s something I have to do alone, for personal reasons.”
Papa looked up, startled, and locked gazes. Looking into his son’s eyes, he said, “I see. You must overcome the bullies of your past by fighting their boss in New Jersey.”
Matt nodded. “Merovence needs to have me go back, and I need to have me go back. Please, Papa. I need you in the North.”
Matt watched his father walk away, pack on his back, eyes fixed on the north, and Matt felt very much alone. He hoped Papa knew the territory well enough by now to deal with whatever trouble he ran into.
Papa disappeared below the crest of the hill and Matt turned away, scolding himself. Of course Papa would be okay… he was a wizard now, and had a good deal more life experience than Matt had. If worse came to worst, he could summon Lakshmi and charm her into fighting his battles for him.
The thought relaxed him for a moment… his plot had worked. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Papa would be out of danger, or at least in less danger than he would have found in New Jersey. Okay, he’d be in a war, but he’d be in the middle of an army, with a lot of soldiers between himself and the Moors… and if they fought guerrilla-style, they probably wouldn’t come anywhere near a pitched battle.
Matt, on the other hand, was going to be alone against a dozen merciless thugs. He felt himself turn hollow at the thought and tried to remind himself that some of the villains he’d faced in Allustria and
Ibile had to be worse than anything New Jersey could produce… but he had a hard time believing that one, too.
Papa had given in kind of easily, though. Matt wondered if he should feel hurt, or suspicious.
He turned back to pack away the food and douse the campfire. Then he remembered Callio, and was surprised to discover that his backpack was still there. For that matter, he was surprised to find the campfire was still there.
Then, when he looked around, he was even more surprised, for the one thing that wasn’t there was Callio.
Matt’s first impulse was huge relief… the thief had been a bit of a burden, or at least a bother. He felt rather ashamed of the emotion, but there it was.
Not that it mattered… he was going to New Jersey alone, anyway. He tried to recall the tune and lyrics of the latest rock song he’d heard there, and had to work hard to think them in English instead of the language of Merovence. He succeeded, though, and began to sing. The peculiar biorhythms of the piece began to reverberate through him; he felt his heartbeat synchronizing with it, felt the English words coming with less and less effort, and the world began to go gray around him…
Just before the world went crazy, he felt two hands seize his arm, hard, but his trance was too deep to bother shaking them off. A vagrant thought flitted through his mind, that if anyone from Merovence wanted to come along to his native universe, they deserved what they got.
Then the world swirled around him, shapeless, formless, and the familiar dizziness swept him away.
Papa descended the trail, glanced back to make sure Matt was out of sight, then dropped his pack behind a rocky outcrop and called, softly, sweetly, and in his most enticing tone,
A dust devil boiled up out of the ground before him, towered swirling and rumbling over him, threatening and dark. Then it pulled in on itself and became Lakshmi, pivoting in place as in a dance, slowing and halting to glare at him, defiant and truculent. “What do you wish of me now, O Unnaturally Virtuous Man?”
“Assistance that you may find enjoyable,” Papa said; then, quickly, because of the gleam in her eye, “No, not that kind. But my son has foolishly decided to go to another universe, another world, and battle an arch-sorcerer and his minions alone, with no weapons other than his magic… and spells will not work as well there as they do here.”
“But a djinna’s magic, even diminished, may turn the tide?” Lakshmi asked sourly. “Well, I have been to other worlds before… no, do not gawk like a peasant seeing a city for the first time! We djinn have many powers that you know not of. But what reward shall I have for my efforts, eh?” She raised a hand to forestall his answer. “I know, I know, your undying gratitude! Well, you shall die long before I, I doubt not.”
“I was going to say,” Papa protested, “that I shall aid you in your hour of need.”
“Your son already has, and the fool would not take such reward as I wished to give! Why should you do differently? Nonetheless, I shall do the two of you this one favor more. Do not push too hard at the boundaries of my gratitude, O Man!”
“I regret that I must do so,” Papa said meekly, “for I have nowhere else to turn for the kind of help that we need.”
“Then do not put yourself into such straits again!” Lakshmi snapped, and wound up to start whirling again.
“And might I ask one more boon?” Papa asked quickly.
Lakshmi froze and gave him a dagger-glance. “I do not promise to grant it… but ask!”
“That you take me to my son in his hour of need,” Papa said quickly.
“If I have a whole hour in which to do it, yes. If help must be given on the instant, I will help him myself and without you,” Lakshmi snapped. “I say again, O Wizard, do not ask too much!”
“Forgive me,” Papa said, all meekness.
“My mother told me never to trust a man with honeyed words,” Lakshmi sniffed, “especially if he was in love with another! You should have summoned me before your son married, foolish mortal! Even so, I shall guard him for you. Farewell!” She spun into her whirl, too fast for him to get another word in edgewise, blurred into a howling whirlwind, and sank into the ground.
Papa smiled with fond amusement. Really, he was coming to like Lakshmi immensely. She might complain about it, but the poor thing was so blatantly in love with Matthew that all Papa had needed to do was to say that his son might be in danger. There was no chance that Lakshmi would have refused.
Considering Matthew’s misspelling in his freeing her of her lamp, she had no chance at all.
The huge lock ground and clanked, the door grated open, and Mama stepped into Beidizam’s chamber with Saul behind her. “I trust you are comfortable, milord.”
“As comfortable as I may be, in a Frankish castle,” Beidizam grumbled, “but I thank you for a proper bed and windows, even if they are mere arrowslits, and barred.”
“I hope to treat you as a noble guest deserves,” Mama said demurely. “Is there anything you wish, that we may supply?”
“Other than guards who understand the words I speak, so that I need not pantomime my wants?”
“Other than that, yes.”
“Well, a houri or two, some properly cooked food, and some Moorish sweetmeats would do nicely.”
“I feared you would find our way of living too modest.” Mama sat in a small, straight chair. “But surely it is better than your tent and field quarters.”
“Well, it is that,” Beidizam admitted. “Still, you might tell me how you have bound every spell I utter, so that it might as well never have been spoken.”
“Because it has not been,” Mama said simply.
Beidizam stared.
“I have tangled your tongue, milord,” Mama said with gentle sympathy. “When you speak to anyone but me, your lips will not form the words your mind has chosen… they will only spout nonsense syllables.”