The sonorous sound of a chant filled the air, as Maayavi began reciting the verse form of a spell: a mantra.
He then tapped his staff on the ground and the pattern glowed white, spreading, feeding on the power it drew from the mantra, eating up the spare space and becoming more elaborate. Now it was growing outward in the same concentric pattern of squares and circles, until it occupied all of the floor except for a narrow strip edging the walls.
People inched back to avoid stepping on it.
“I need something that once belonged to the child we’re seeking,” said the wizard. He was standing unaffected within the diagram. Ketuvahana saw he had been careful enough to leave himself a blank space to stand in. The blood-soaked satchel lay at his feet.
At a signal from him, a soldier inched along until he reached a bag propped against the wall. From within, he brought a toy horse.
The soldier gingerly made his way across the pattern, carefully sidestepping any markings. His hand brushed the wizard as he passed the toy to him, a grimace of revulsion crossing his face.
The wizard fed the toy horse to the fire silently.
At once, the lines of the elaborate design widened, resolving into tiny letters of script. Ketuvahana realized with astonishment, that it was the mantra the wizard was chanting, but in the written form. The spell floated along the lines oftheyantrain an almost unbroken line, repeating itself. Except where the wizard stood, there was a break.
“Now we need a sacrifice,” intoned the wizard in a hollow voice. “A live one.”
* * *
As the wizard gazed around the broken circle of petrified people, surveying them like cattle at an abattoir, Ketuvahana found his voice. “Now see here—”
“Are you volunteering yourself, Prince?” interrupted the wizard.
“What! No, of course not.”
“Then it’s in your best interest to keep quiet,” he said tonelessly.
“Why you freak… Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ketuvahana words emerged as a deep growl. He had objected only because he didn’t want to waste good, loyal men, but there was a price for everything.
There was something odd about this wizard, thought Ketuvahana, trying to put his finger on what exactly felt wrong. Although he appeared human, there was no human emotion in those eyes. Nothing seemed to produce a reaction. It was unnerving for Ketuvahana, who usually savored seeing a person’s fear.
“An impetuous, imprudent, bull of a man, if you must know.”
Ketuvahana felt the blood simmering in his veins as anger surfaced swiftly. He heard Sakaala’s soft groan through the thunder in his ears.
He was aware that people gossiped about his short temper and cruel streak. And if the wizard knew that, then either he was a fool poking at a tiger or powerful enough that he didn’t carewho he was insulting. It was worth knowing which it was, before acting in haste.
“Fine,” he growled, reigning in his fury. “Pick someone here. Finish the blasted ritual and get out of my sight.” It wasn’t easy for him to restrain himself; he preferred to let his impulses and desires run unfettered.
His father would be proud, thought Ketuvahana, with a twist of his lips. He was forever asking him to curb his inclinations. But this meant someone else was going to feel his wrath before the evening ended. He smiled thinking about the maid servant he had his eye on for a while; his mood restored.
The wizard seemed to make his choice. “You’ll do nicely,” he said, speaking to the soldier who had handed him the children’s toy. “Come forward.”
The soldier tried to make a run for it. But inches from the door, he stopped suddenly and turned. Odd whimpering sounds emerged from his lips, but he still moved forward as if dragged against his will, like a marionette. Only his eyes reflected his horror.
“How did he do that? How did he stop the soldier?” wondered Ketuvahana in an aside to Sakaala.
“I think, sire, that the wizard can take over the mind of a person. I’ve heard rumors,” explained the aide.
“With a power like that, why does he need us?” Ketuvahana asked, looking at the wizard with renewed interest.
“Perhaps because there are limitations to a power like that—”
“And are you sure he isn’t controlling us?” he asked, sudden doubt assailing him.
“I believe we would know if we were being controlled. It isn’t a pleasant experience, judging by the soldier’s expression,” whispered back Sakaala.
“Interesting…” murmured Ketuvahana, deep in thought. “But aren’t we putting ourselves at risk, inviting him here? What if he takes over one of us?”
