Mazirian the Magician Read Online Free PDF

back and whipped free his own blade. When she lunged at him again, he fended off the blow and leaning forward, touched the point to her arm and brought a drop of blood. She drew back startled; then up from her saddle she snatched a bow and flicked an arrow to the string. Turjan sprang forward, dodging the wild sweep of the sword, seized her around the waist, and dragged her to the ground.
    She fought with a crazy violence. He had no wish to kill her, and so struggled in a manner not entirely dignified. Finally he held her helpless, her arms pinioned behind her back.
    â€œQuiet, vixen!” said Turjan, “lest I lose patience and stun you!”
    â€œDo as you please,” the girl gasped. “Life and death are brothers.”
    â€œWhy do you seek to harm me?” demanded Turjan. “I have given you no offense.”
    â€œYou are evil, like all existence.” Emotion ground the delicate fibers of her throat. “If power were mine, I would crush the universe to bloody gravel, and stamp it into the ultimate muck.”
    Turjan in surprise relaxed his grip, and she nearly broke loose. But he caught her again.
    â€œTell me, where may I find Pandelume?”
    The girl stilled her exertion, twisted her head to stare at Turjan. Then: “Search all Embelyon. I will assist you not at all.”
    If she were more amiable, thought Turjan, she would be a creature of remarkable beauty.
    â€œTell me where I may find Pandelume,” said Turjan, “else I find other uses for you.”
    She was silent for a moment, her eyes blazing with madness. Then she spoke in a vibrant voice.
    â€œPandelume dwells beside the stream only a few paces distant.”
    Turjan released her, but he took her sword and bow.
    â€œIf I return these to you, will you go your way in peace?”
    For a moment she glared; then without words she mounted her horse and rode off through the trees.
    Turjan watched her disappear through the shafts of jewel colors, then went in the direction she had indicated. Soon he came to a long low manse of red stone backed by dark trees. As he approached the door swung open. Turjan halted in mid-stride.
    â€œEnter!” came a voice. “Enter, Turjan of Miir!”
    So Turjan wonderingly entered the manse of Pandelume. He found himself in a tapestried chamber, bare of furnishing save a single settee. No one came to greet him. A closed door stood at the opposite wall, and Turjan went to pass through, thinking perhaps it was expected of him.
    â€œHalt, Turjan,” spoke the voice. “No one may gaze on Pandelume. It is the law.”
    Turjan, standing in the middle of the room, spoke to his unseen host.
    â€œThis is my mission, Pandelume,” he said. “For some time I have been striving to create humanity in my vats. Yet always I fail, from ignorance of the agent that binds and orders the patterns. This master-matrix must be known to you; therefore I come to you for guidance.”
    â€œWillingly will I aid you,” said Pandelume. “There is, however, another aspect involved. The universe is methodized by symmetry and balance; in every aspect of existence is this equipoise observed. Consequently, even in the trivial scope of our dealings, this equivalence must be maintained, thus and thus. I agree to assist you; in return, you perform a service of equal value for me. When you have completed this small work, I will instruct and guide you to your complete satisfaction.”
    â€œWhat may this service be?” inquired Turjan.
    â€œA man lives in the land of Ascolais, not far from your Castle Miir. About his neck hangs an amulet of carved blue stone. This you must take from him and bring to me.”
    Turjan considered a moment.
    â€œVery well,” he said. “I will do what I can. Who is the man?”
    Pandelume answered in a soft voice.
    â€œPrince Kandive the Golden.”
    â€œAh,” exclaimed Turjan ruefully, “you have gone to no pains to