“And it goes beyond that. I can teach someone to do what I do. It’s not hard, really. It takes an organized mind and a knack for thinking logically, but jut about anyone can learn it. If your magicians have the knack I can show them the tools and teach them how to use them.
“Don’t you see?” he repeated. “It means humans don’t have to walk in fear any more.” He thought of a small cabin deep in the Wild Wood and the four carefully tended graves behind it. Of a burned farm near the Fringe and the mound of raw earth among the cabbages. “People don’t have to be afraid.”
Bal-Simba sat silent for a long time. “This will require thought,” he said at last. “The Council must consider it carefully. No doubt you will be asked to come to the Capital to explain to them.” He chuckled. “Oh, we’re in for some rare debates in the Council chantry, I can see that.”
The wizard pushed away from the table and rose. “But it will be soonest over if it is soonest started. And I should carry the news to them quickly. For that I will leave you now.” He turned toward the door.
“No, wait!” Moira rose from the table. “There is one more thing you must do.”
Bal-Simba cocked an eyebrow and waited.
Moira clasped her hands in front of her, took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Lord, I want you to remove the infatuation spell from Wiz,” she said in a trembling voice.
“Eh?”
“Uh, never mind,” Wiz told him. “I’m not sure I want it removed. Not now.” He put his hands on Moira’s shoulders but she shook them off with an angry gesture.
“Please, Lord. It is not fair to Wiz that I hold him in thrall thus.”
“Now wait a minute . . .” Wiz began, but Moira cut him off. “It is his right, Lord.”
“Now how is this?” asked Bal-Simba with a twinkle in his eye. “You wish to be rid of this troublesome Sparrow?”
“No, Lord, I do not. But I love him and I cannot . . .” she took a deep ragged breath and rushed on. “I cannot accept what is constrained from him. I love him too much to hold him by magic.”
“Don’t I have anything to say in this?” Wiz interjected.
Moira turned to him. “No, Wiz you do not. Not now. After the spell is removed, perhaps then. But don’t you see? You feel what you must because of the spell.”
“He may not love you once the spell is removed,” Bal-Simba said gravely.
“Yes, I will!” Wiz shouted but neither paid any attention to him.
“I know that, Lord.” Moira looked as if she would cry. “I know that. But I cannot take by magic what is not mine by right.”
“You have treated him very badly, you know.”
“Lord, please.”
Bal-Simba steepled his hands and rested them on his great belly. “Lady, you ask a thing which is impossible.”
“Lord!” Moira gasped, her face white. “But you said . . .”
“I know, but there have been changes since then. Your Sparrow is now the mightiest of the Mighty. His method of magic will likely spread throughout the World and he bids fair to outshine us all from hedge-witch to master sorcerer. And he does not want the spell removed.
“You on the other hand bid to become the Lady to the mightiest of the Mighty and that raises you high indeed. A poor old fat wizard who wishes to live out his days in peace would be well advised to stay in your good graces.”
The black giant smiled, showing all his filed, pointed teeth, looking for all the world like an avuncular shark.
“More to the point Lady, I cannot remove what is not there.”
“Huh?” said Wiz brilliantly.
“Lord, I saw Patrius cast the spell.”
“And I removed it on my visit some months back,” Bal-Simba said, still smiling. “It no longer seemed necessary.”
Moira dropped her hand to her sides. “Then . . .”
“Oh yes, your Sparrow has been free for some little time.” He cocked his head and eyed Wiz. “Although he seems to show no great interest in leaving his cage.”