He could have anything he wanted, but what he wanted wasn’t ostentatious or overdone-it was simple, but very elegant in its simplicity. The proportions were perfect, the colonnade behind it harmonizing beautifully with the house itself. The paved court in front was welcoming, as it led up to a portico that was the one element of the house not accurate historically, but blending so well with the Classical style that Matt found himself thinking he must have missed something major in his overview of Classical architecture. Of course, that had only been two weeks out of a survey course, but still… Wait a minute! This wasn’t part of the Classical style-it was something new, an innovation, but developed in perfect harmony with the spirit of the sunlit Golden Age of Greece, expressed in Roman style! Whoever this man was, he was eclectic, and not afraid to try something new.
Matt had to meet him. He walked up to the door and was surprised to find a huge brass knocker that could have come off a door in sixteenth century Florence, but somehow blended exquisitely with the Roman style. He lifted it, let it fall, waited a minute, then lifted it and let it fall again. He was mildly surprised that there were no reverberations echoing away into cavernous depths, then surprised at himself for being surprised. No, of course there wouldn’t be, would there? Not in a sunny, airy, open house like this. The door swung wide, and an old man stood there, bald, a little stooped, with a Roman nose, a thin-lipped smile, and a bright, inquisitive eye. “Good day, friend! You are a friend, I trust?”
“Not yet,” Matt said, “but I think I’d like to be.”
“Are you a philosopher, then?”
“I can’t really claim that.” After all, he hadn’t even written his dissertation yet, let alone received his Ph.D. “I just enjoy learning.”
“But not enough to claim you love knowledge, eh?” The man smiled, amused. “Perhaps you love women more? Or one woman?”
“One,” Matt confirmed. “I suppose you might say I flirt with knowledge, but I wouldn’t want to marry it.”
“Ah!” The man laughed. “Whereas I, my friend, most exquisitely enjoy flirting with beautiful women, but have chosen to marry knowledge! Have you read the works of the Greeks?”
“Only some,” Matt admitted, “and I studied modern languages, never did learn Latin or Greek.”
“But you are a scholar!”
“No, only a professional student.”
Finally, the man frowned. “You must explain the distinction to me-but first we must see to some refreshment for you. Come in, come in!”
As Matt stepped inside the door, the old man held out one hand as he closed the door with the other. “I am Arouetto. And you?”
Well, here it came. This was the chance of friendship, or the making of an enemy-but Matt didn’t feel like lying to this guy; he instinctively liked him. “I’m Matthew Mantrell.”
Arouetto stared. “The Lord Wizard of Merovence?”
Matt braced himself. “The same.”
“I have heard of you, have heard of the breadth of your scholarship! Oh, do come in, seat yourself! We must talk, at length and of many matters! Come, come!”
Arouetto hurried away down a hall and through a doorway. Matt followed, bemused. Nice to know he wasn’t counted as an enemy-but it was a bit of a surprise to hear this stranger sing his praises, especially for his scholarship. Maybe, by the standards of this world, he knew enough to be called a scholar-but Matt knew the truth. On the other hand, he knew a mathematician who had walked through the commencement line, taken a proud look at his Ph.D. diploma, and said, “Well, now I know how much I don’t know.” Maybe it went with the territory. But sitting down did have a nice sound. He followed Arouetto. They passed through the door into the atrium. That bright Italian sun beat down, but Arouetto was leading him to a marble bench in the shade of a wall, with a little table beside it. “Seat yourself, my friend! I know-the marble is hard. But a cushion will soften it!” He stared at the white surface, and suddenly there was a brocaded cushion covering its top, fitting its shape exactly. “And something cool to drink!” Arouetto stared at the tabletop, and a crystal goblet appeared, beaded with moisture, for the purple liquid inside it was iced. Arouetto looked up, beaming. “It is convenient being in a world of illusion, is it not?”
So he knew. “How long did it take you to figure that out?” Matt asked slowly.
“I did not-I fear I am slow of thought. It took an encounter with a braggart sorcerer, who thought to intimidate me with the range of his fantasies.” Arouetto smiled. “But he did not know the Classics, knew nothing of the Hydra or the gorgons. He fled screaming when he met them, and by the time he remembered they were only illusions and could be fought, I dreamed up this villa. Its walls were proof against monsters, for I fear the man had little learning, and less imagination. He sat down on a bench next to Matt’s, the little table stretching to accommodate them. ”How long did it take you, my friend? Being a wizard, you no doubt knew it for what it was quite quickly.“ A goblet with chartreuse liquid appeared in his fingers.
”Well, yes, but I was trying to figure it out,“ Matt said, ”and when you’re deliberately trying to cast a spell, and it works better and faster man you’d expected, you kind of get a hint.“ He took a sip; it was unfermented grape juice, cold and delicious. ”Apparently, King Boncorro decided it would be better for me to be working my magic in here than in his kingdom.“
“So you confronted the king himself! A wizards’ duel?”
“Don’t know if you could say it was a duel,” Matt said slowly. “I was too busy talking and not being suspicious enough; he took me more or less by surprise. I can understand why he’d want me out of the way, though-I did come into his kingdom in disguise, after all. To be frank, I was spying.”
“And he found you out.” Arouetto nodded. “Or was it his chancellor, Rebozo?‘
“It was Rebozo, and he would as soon have cut my head off as glowered at me-but Boncorro decided to send me here instead. He said it was a test to find out how powerful I was. If I can figure a way to get out of here, I pass.”
“In which case, he will know that he must use every spell at his command to slay you.” Arouetto nodded. “I would recommend, Lord Wizard, that if you do manage to fly this congenial prison, you escape to some place far from King Boncorro-and take me with you.”
Matt swirled the liquid in his goblet. “I should think you would like it here.”
“Oh, it is certainly far more luxury than I could manage in the real world, and I am able to surround myself with beauty that I can only dream of at home! But it is lonely, Lord Wizard. I may not wish to marry, but I do enjoy the company of kindred souls-and corresponding with the few others who have discovered the delights of the old Greek and Reman books.”
“I can understand that. I saw some of your statues coming in, though, and they’re masterful. Did you just remember works you had actually seen? If you did, I’d like to meet the sculptor.”
“I did remember the statues of the Greeks and Remans that I have seen myself, but for the others, I imagined people I knew, then undressed them in my mind and set them on pedestals, in stone.”
Matt smiled. “It’s a good thing none of them can see their statues.”
“Oh, they would not recognize them!” Arouetto assured him. “I begin with faces I know, but change them so that the resemblance is lost, but the beauty preserved.”