Melanthrix the Mage Read Free Page B

strange, Father. Of course, such laws do exist, but when has the church ever cared about their enforcement? Why, I can’t recall the last time charges were actually brought against someone. Usu­ally, they just run the offenders out of town.”
    â€œWell, Metropolitan Païsios encountered the man, they had words, and one thing led to another. He officially accused Melanthrix of paganism, and the good doctor then appealed to the throne, which was his right under the law, but which also took the matter out of the ecclesiastical courts.”
    â€œVery canny of him,” the abbot said. “It almost seems to me that his actions were intended specifically to gain him a royal audience.”
    â€œSeveral of us have since thought so,” the traveler said. “When presented to the king, the astrologer called out in a loud voice, ‘All hail Kipriyán the Conqueror,’ and prostrated himself before the throne.
    â€œâ€˜What do you mean?’ came the royal response.
    â€œâ€˜Those who have eyes can see what there is to see,’ Melanthrix said. ‘May this unworthy servant rise?’
    â€œWhen Kipriyán nodded his consent, the mage drew a crimson square in the air with his right forefinger.
    â€œâ€˜To those who understand le plan astrologique , my lord king,’ Melanthrix said, ‘the future hangs before us like the tapestry upon the wall.’
    â€œThe floating square suddenly began displaying im­ages.
    â€œâ€˜At the center of the weave,’ the sorceror contin­ued, ‘is the mighty Kyprianos, king of kings, savior of his race, the greatest warrior of the Tighrishi line, veritably another Joshua laying low his enemies with the jawbone of an ass.’
    â€œNow the image displayed the mounted form of Kipriyán himself, bloody sword on high, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies.
    â€œâ€˜It is you , o mighty king, you who shall rescue Kórynthia from the heathen beasts, you whom men shall call Conqueror, you whom the Autokratôr at Julianople shall honor as his equal. Forgive us this great imperti­nence, great king, but you see before you only your humble servant, the lowly Doctor Melanthrix, who wishes only to serve you faithfully for the remainder of his days.’
    â€œThen he pulled a pin from somewhere in his robes, and stuck it into the picture. The image vanished with a loud pop, leaving no trace.”
    â€œIncredible!” Jován said.
    â€œIndeed,” the priest said. “But this is the strangest part, my old friend. Neither I nor any other mage present could fathom how the thing was done, nor could we penetrate his mind, and those psai defenses were unlike anything we have ever encountered. I know of one assault that was made upon him a few days later; Melanthrix laughed at his attacker, and laughed again when that indi­vidual was executed by order of the king.”
    â€œWho was it?” the abbot asked.
    â€œLord Khaldán.”
    â€œToo bad,” the older man said, “a good man, if a bit rough around the edges.”
    Arik drained his tea, then tossed another log on the fire. He sighed.
    â€œNow the king will do nothing without consulting this charlatan, and neither his generals nor his ministers have been able to break his hold on Kipriyán’s mind. And that, Father Abbot, is why I’m so dull these days.”
    â€œAnd I thought it was just your natural bloodymind­edness,” Jován said, grinning at his former pupil. “You say no one knows anything of his past?”
    â€œNothing,” Arik said. “He was seen first in Myláßgorod a few days before his arrest. Some have spec­ulated that he came up river from Susafön, but I can’t con­firm a sighting earlier than Myláß. He sports these strange, multi-hued robes, which may be a deliberate affectation to keep us from identifying his nationality. His accent seems stilted and formal, but