Scanned by gojukai From Tales of Fantasy, Elsewhere Vol. II Edited by Terri Windling & Mark Alan Arnold Junction's Pleasure Richard Englehart "I'm ready to die." "You can't," the cave said. He was old. His long hair, curled and silvered, burnished now with the sun, flounced in a gentle breeze. His face was an etching of his experiences. His eyes were glittering blue jewels, deeply set, twinkling in the catching of the brilliant morning. "You know too much," the cave said. Yellow smoke fumed thickly, pulsing with the energy of a cut artery. "You have taken," the cave said. "Now you must give." The magician coiled his pride and his dusty robes around him- "I have given," was all he said, though his face shadowed. The hole, time-hewn out of a purple granite skrag, belched sulphurous fumes around the kneeling man. It rumbled again. "You have given," the cave spoke clearly to the man, "of your energies, given to aid and thwart." "So, I have given. Then what?" The rock around the cave entrance seemed to flex and form as a mouth speaking. "You must hand your knowl- edge on." The magician stood in frustration and anger. "I have no successor." "Are you not a powerful mage?" "You know I am." "Then where, old man, is your progeny?" "I have a child," he mumbled, leaning against a dead, ancient pine. "A girl," the cave said. ' 'Where is my son? I am weary now of this life and want to leave. Yet I may not go without passing on my knowl- edge. I am tired. Listen hole, this grey hair has been earned. There are none who can match my power." The man touched the ground at the base of the tree. Above, a raven watched as the scant humus caught in the rocky folds shifted and the fresh tip of a new pine shrugged through the dirt. "I am so impressed," said the cave, its sarcasm lost on the raven hut not on the man. "So," the rumbling contin- ued, "where is your progeny?" "When first I stood here and we pacted," the old man said, his nails absently flaking bark from the dead tree, "you said you would give me a son." "When we pacted, I said that I would be a source of power and knowledge for you; that I believed in you; and that, if you learned well, if you learned the ultimate, I would give you progeny to whom you would pass your knowledge." "A magician may pass knowledge only to first born males." "And the penalty?" "Immortality. Doomed to live with superior knowledge. different from all, forever alienated." "Conclusions?with your limited ability?" "We pacted. You promised progeny. I have waited." "How is your daughter?" "Vermillion?" "You have more than she?" "I suppose she is well," said the old man. "You suppose?" "Since she is not to be my successor, I have spent little time with her. Magicians must not be involved. Our powers are paid for with loneliness, for none can understand us." "Yes ... I have heard so. Do tell me more." "Must you always be so condescending?" "No," this time the rumble seemed to be a laugh and the smoke puffed jauntily.' 'But, at times, it is difficult not to be. Consider the circumstances." The old man began to pace nervously, kicking at the dust. "We cannot really touch even our wives?for they are women and can understand even less.". "Indeed!" "So, why have you broken our pact?" the Mage dared. Silence. The magician challenged: "Well?" More silence. The magician's eyes lost patience with this smoking hole, but wisely he held his emotions. "Well, yourself," the cave echoed?a statement that boomed across the high pine valleys, vibrating the distant peaks and shaking the raven from his lethargy. The old man's shadowed face ebbed and the tide of his mind prodded him. "You're saying that I have something yet to learn." "How deeply perceptive. I knew my time was not to be wasted on you. Oh, great mage, you who create pine trees, why don't you create your own successor?" "This power is not given to me." It was as close to bitterness as he could allow. "Does it keep you humble?" "Yes." "Good. Remember always of powers greater than your- self. "Junction!" The use of his name set the importance of what was to follow and he allowed his emotions to dissipate like but- terflies in the mountain air. "Yes." The mountain thundered as the ochre smoke churned. The cloud enfolded the man and he stood bathed and listening. * function, you know more than any man. But be aware there will always be contenders for your position. Nothing is as sweet to youth as the fall of an old man. There are many who would happily dance on your grave. "Especially," the cave seemed to drop to a confidential tone, "beware of Castigo." "Castigo?" The old man blinked, surprised- "How can he be a danger? He was my student, the best. Yet, he doesn't possess near the necessary knowledge . . ." "You taught him enough. What he has learned from darker sources is what makes him dangerous." Junction clouded. "I will be prepared, but 1 assume there is more." "Continual brilliance. When we pacted, I said that you must learn the ultimate. You have learned all that men have to give you, now you must learn one tiling more. This last is an occult from the dawn, from before thought, from a time of Eden. Yet the answer has never been hidden. It has always been around you. It is, indeed, the most fear- some, the most difficult lesson." The cave puffed and seemed to smile. "Old man, you need a teacher. This one does not know what he is to teach; take him with you now. Learn from him and be companion to each other." Junction looked around as the enfolding cloud diffused to a trickling puff and sunlight fell upon him. He could see no one. A shadow spiralled down from the height of me dead pine; the raven flapped to the man and grasped his shoulder through maroon robes as though shaking hands. Hello, Junction. There was no sound. The words formed intelligibly, deep within the man's mind. "Junction, this is Agapis. Until this moment, when I bid he do otherwise, he had no interest in things human?just as you had no interest in things raven. Agapis will be a guide in your learning. Neither he nor you now under- stands how. Be of care lest the lesson slip by." And a wind sprang up pushing the smoke and drifting through the man's robes as he looked at the bird on his shoulder. The raven seemed to shrug. Don't look at me. I know less of this than you. But I'll do it. "I will also," said the old man. "I've been equally perplexed before, but in the end all made sense." "1 am glad," the cave said,' 'that we are all in agreement. Well, Junction, Agapis, you had better get started." "Where?" "That will take care of itself. You certainly are not going to learn any more here. I suggest home. Home is always a good place to start." The raven pulled from the man's shoulder and settled onto the canyon updrafts, a flower opening, rising out over the valley. I will see you at the valley entrance, Junction. Enjoy your climb. The man started down, feeling the exfoliations of granite crumble and slither from under his feet. "I really wonder who gets the best part of all this," the magician muttered. "Somehow none of this seems fair." "Nobody ever said it was supposed to be," said the cave. Junction reached the foot of the mountain, he retrieved the items that he had stored there prior to his climb: his cloak?collared, sheening black; his shoulder-strapped pouch?leather, containing herbs, potions and talismans; and finally, his heavy staff? black, smooth, a deep natural grain. He strode through the valley, towards the hidden entrance; sifting through the dwarfed shrubbery at the edge, he seemed to fade into the face of a cliff as he entered a niche which became a narrow, twisting canyon. It emptied the magician into a scrubbed wood. From this outer entrance, he looked across low, rolling hills and could see the dusty road to his home looping through the low areas. Junction! The raven's voice floated softly through his mind and the old man scanned the stunted trees, finally discerning the space in shadows filled with the bird. "Agapis?" Would you care to assist a peasant being robbed or is your way home of more importance? "I'd prefer to continue home; but I suppose I must." Must? Agapis cocked his head. My new instincts tell me that you do only what you want and call it 'must'. "Do your instincts speak of a magician's duty? 'Power is a double-edged responsibility.' No matter. Philosophy later, Heroics now. Where?" Watch me and follow. His sheen glided among the mushrooms of trees, a black fan wafting. The peasant, terrified, speechless, stood cringing against a rock, held by one of the toughs who had twisted the poor man's tattered chemise against his throat The other stood, laughing, holding a cocked crossbow, relaxed. The bow- man spoke, his voice like straw burning. "Fargus. stop playing with him. Take his poke and stand aside so I can put him out of his misery." He gestured casually, but meaningfully, with his crossbow. "Fargus, rather, just stand aside. Leave his poke and leave the territory. Also, take what's?his?name with you." At me foreign sound, the two turned and the one called Fargus released the peasant who crumpled to his knees, bonnet askew. The robber reached into the Mousing of his cote, producing a small, broad-bladed dirk- He laughed amiably. "San San, how lucky it is we are! Here we are, two poor wayfarers, contenting ourselves with meagre pickings from a poor worker. And now, see what has been sent us...
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