Wiz took a deep, shuddering breath. “Which means—what?”
“It means,” the wizard said gently, “that to all intents and purposes you are an ordinary mortal with nothing magic to make you special.”
“Okay, so send me home then.”
Bal-Simba shook his head. “I am truly sorry, Sparrow, but that we cannot do.”
“Oh crap! You brought me here, you can send me home.”
“It is not that simple, Sparrow.”
“It is that simple! It is exactly that simple. If you can bring me here you can send me back.”
“No it is not!” Bal-Simba said sharply. “Now heed me. I will explain to you a little of the magic that brought you here.
“Did you ever wonder why Patrius chose to Summon you at a place far removed from the Capital? No, why would you? He did it because he hoped to do alone what he and all the Mighty could not accomplish acting together.
“Normally a Great Summoning is done by several of the Mighty together. But such a gathering of magic would be immediately visible to the magicians of the Dark League. They would strive to interfere and we would have to use magic to protect it. Soon there would be so much magical energy tied up in thrust and parry that the circle could not hope to make the Great Summoning.
“Of us all, only Patrius had the knowledge and ability to perform a Great Summoning unaided. He knew he could not completely escape the League’s attention, but he apparently hoped that they would not realize what was happening until he had completed the spell.” Bal-Simba looked grim. “As it happened he was wrong and the gamble cost Patrius his life.
“Simply put, Sparrow, there is no hope of returning you to your world unless we can perform a Great Summoning unhindered and there is no hope of that with the League growing in power.”
Wiz’s face twisted. “Damn.”
“Even non-magicians should not swear, Sparrow,” Bal-Simba said sternly.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? You’ve just told me I’m nothing and I’ll always be nothing. I’m supposed to be happy about it?”
“I did not say you were nothing. I said you have nothing of magic about you. You have a life to live and can make of it what you will.”
“Fine,” Wiz said bitterly. “I don’t suppose you could use your magic to whip me up a VAX? Or even a crummy IBM PC?”
“I am afraid not, Sparrow. Besides, I do not think those things would work here.”
Wiz leaned forward against the parapet and clasped his hands together. “So,” he sighed. “What do I do now?”
“Survive,” Bal-Simba said. “Live. That is the lot of most.”
“That’s not very enticing,” Wiz growled. “I can’t go home and there’s nothing for me here.”
Bal-Simba followed his gaze down into the garden where Moira was kneeling among the plants.
“Things change, Sparrow. Things change.”
“Not much to hope for, is it?”
“Men have lived on the hope of less,” Bal-Simba rumbled. “Do you have courage, Sparrow? The courage to hope?”
Wiz turned to face him and smiled bitterly. “I can’t have much else, can I?”
They stood looking out over the battlements and to the forest beyond for a moment more.
“You can stay here for as long as you like,” Bal-Simba said finally. “The Dark League still seeks you and it is not safe for you to wander abroad in the world.”
“Thanks,” Wiz mumbled. “I guess I can find some way to make myself useful.”
“That will be your choice, Sparrow.”
As he moved to go, Bal-Simba placed his left hand on Wiz’s shoulder and made an odd gesture in front of his eyes with his right. A thrill ran though Wiz’s body and he shivered involuntarily.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“A minor magic, Sparrow,” the giant black wizard said. “It is for your own good, I assure you.”
He left Wiz staring out over the forest and descended the stairs.
After Bal-Simba left, Wiz looked down at the flagged courtyard spread out below.
It’s a long way, he thought. It would take, what?, five, six seconds to fall that far.