The Quest of Kadji

Kadji soon learned that one of the great feast days was close at hand It was called the Feast of the Moon Gods, and on that night the Ja Chan would revel with his lords and courtiers, while jugglers and acrobats, dancing girls and sorcerers would perform for the amusement of the Shadow of the Hand of Heaven and his chieftains.

When the seventh day at last had come, Kadji hurried to the old caravanserai by the Western Gate, and ordered a private room wherein he could talk to Akthoob in privacy. Somewhat bewildered by the boy warrior’s intensity of emotion, the little old wizard pattered up the stairs and waited patiently while Kadji locked the door and drew him down to a seat at a small rickety table near the small cobwebbed window where they could talk unobserved.

And then, in a low tense voice, he explained his plan, the daring concept that had occurred to him in his dreams that night in the barracks.

Akthoob rolled back his eyes in terror and his sallow skin went pale at the thought. And yet, as Kadji argued urgently and went into each detail, the old Easterling wizard became calmer and began to realize just how foolproof was Kadji’s plan.

But there were several difficulties to be resolved, and not the least of these was the problem of enlisting the technical aid of Akthoob’s new friend, the wise old Necromancer Arbalac. The heart of the problem was easily captured in few words—why should the old Necromancer risk danger to himself by lending them his scientific assistance? What inducement could they offer? Kadji chewed over that for a moment, then said, “Perhaps we do not need your friend at all. Perhaps he could teach you how to perform the Xin Ritual!”

“Perhaps, but—”

“You said it was simple enough, and involved only drawing a circle.”

“Yes, but—”

“It is just a matter of memorizing the ceremonial, isn’t it? Couldn’t any wizard or magician or whatever perform the ritual if he knew the ceremonial?”

“Yes, probably, but—”

“Then we don’t have to involve your friend at all … unless he would like to earn the undying gratitude of the Ja Chan, by helping us expose the cruel and ambitious hoaxer who is playing upon the superstitions and the fanaticism of his warriors in an unscrupulous and ambitious bid for power!”

“Aii, but would not the honorable Ja Chan feel, instead of gratitude, the same vengeful fury his warriors will feel when their dreams are exposed as sham, as fabrications, and they are brought to the cruel reality!” whimpered the old wizard plaintively. “Have we not already concluded that sleeping men prefer not to wake, and will visit their anger upon those who rouse them from their rosy dreams of empire?”

“Yes,” grinned Kadji, “but the Ja Chan is strong enough to protect us even from the vengeance of the outraged faithful. Why should he, you ask? Because the Ja Chan is—must be—conscious of the fact that as the Masked Prophet gains power, the Ja Chan loses power! No monarch in all this world, enjoys watching an underling grow in influence to a position as high as that to which Shamad the Impostor has ascended. Outwardly, the Ja Chan may regret the extinction of the imperial dreams his deluded followers have worshipped; inwardly, he will be relieved, for it must have occurred to him that Shamad may dream of taking his place upon the Sun Throne. The Ja Chan is a fat, weak, pleasure-loving little man, and much of a fool … but he was, born to power and even fools are jealous of their crown when they suspect another covets it! You might suggest to your necromantic friend this also: a wonder-worker who exposes the fake powers of another wonder-worker gains in prestige and has a good chance at taking over his position, his power, and his prerogatives. It never hurts an artist, whatever his craft, to publicly prove himself superior to a rival artist!”